


Burning Legion

by Mysdrym



Series: Burning Legion [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alliance, Alternate Universe, Dragons, Goblins, Horde, Other, black dragon flight, little bit of fluff eventually, mostly it's an action story with a wee bit of romance later on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-05 01:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 57
Words: 134,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1800325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysdrym/pseuds/Mysdrym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A seventeen year old decides the only way to save her world from the Burning Legion is to find her way to Azeroth. However, it's hard to save the world when you don't have a clue what you're doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Losing Battle

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Let this stand for the whole fic: I do not own World of Warcraft. 
> 
> A/N: Feedback would be awesome!

They're invisible to the naked eye. But that doesn't mean you can't tell that they're coming. You know that wrong feeling you get when someone's glaring at you from across the room and you haven't seen them yet? Or when that creep from Algebra is stalking you?

It's like that, but a hundred thousand times worse. So long as there's just one, you can tell where they are sort of. That wrongness starts in the back of your mind. The closer they get, the worse it is. And if you bump into them—they're invisible, but they're there—God help you, 'cause no one else can.

My older brother told me about something his psych teacher told him, about how humans are the only species who don't listen to their instincts. Like, a zebra won't get this sort of feeling and be like, "Huh, is there a lion behind me? Nah."

Instead, the zebra'll run like hell.

That's what we should have been doing. Maybe. I mean, they're so efficient. They swept through so fast, I doubt an evacuation would've really worked. The north is gone. Greenland, Canada, Norway, Finland, and Sweden are confirmed to have fallen completely. There's rumors that Russia's still holding out near its southern border, but...it's hard to know what to believe anymore.

Here in the U.S., we lost a good chunk before some youtuber in Germany figured out that just because you don't see them doesn't mean they don't emit thermal energy. The internet's really unstable now, by the way.

But, the whole thermal heat thing really helped. With some infrared goggles, you can see just how outnumbered we really are. Seven billion people on our planet—well, there used to be—and there's more of them.

My brother, Greg, was up in a college in New York. I think he might still be alive. I know, I know. It's stupid to hope for anything, but...he sent me some emails two days ago and New York fell almost a week back. Maybe it's just the internet being stupid, but...

It's been almost two months since they first showed up. They took the north in six weeks and the only reason it took them so long was because they walk everywhere. It's like they know we can't stop them, so what's the rush?

At first it was just like...parts of our world were disappearing. And most of us didn't notice. I mean, what would alert me, here in North Carolina, USA, that some little barely-a-thousand-population-town in Greenland with only one road leading to it just got wiped off the face of the map?

It wasn't until they started hitting the bigger towns and cities that people started noticing. 

You know, that kid in Germany probably wasn't the first one to figure out the thermal imaging thing. But he was the first one to have time to get the information out before...if humanity survives this, he'll be remembered as a hero.

But, um...

I'm sorry. My mind is so scattered right now, with what I'm thinking of doing. 

Pretty much every country is under some type of martial law. People aren't supposed to leave their houses. Some governments have been completely toppled because people are scared that if they don't run south now, they'll be killed. My town's been okay. Most people are just staying indoors. Virginia hasn't fallen yet, so people think we still have some time, I guess.

The police have formed a perimeter around this thing that showed up, near the courthouse, and if I'm gonna get to it....

They're already here, you know? I'm sitting here, in a shop that I broke into across the street from this...monument thing that just appeared over night, and they're already coming through it. Not a lot...only maybe five of them so far, but...I saw the video someone in Ohio shot using the imaging stuff. They're an army. I have no doubt there's gonna be more and I don't know how I'm gonna get past them and past whatever is beyond that...portal thing. I don't even know if it goes two ways, but...

I should explain a bit, shouldn't I? 

The emails my brother sent me...I was all excited at first, right? He's a total gamer and into things like zombie apocalypses and stuff and I figured that if anyone can survive the end of the world, it'd be him and his friends. I thought he's probably metal-gear-soliding his way through New York, heading home, but...the stuff he sent me.

It didn't make sense at first. It was a captioned picture of this humanoid looking thing with a really thick neck and a horn coming out of its head holding a sword. The caption said, "Burning Legion. World of Warcraft. Look it up."

The official site is completely down, but I found some fan sites. They're taking them down, I think. Trying to keep us from spreading the word of what they are. But, sites keep popping up with bits of information and I have enough of an idea that I think I know what I have to do.

Apparently the Burning Legion destroys worlds and we're up. In Warcraft, the species could all see them—the demons, they're called. They like, tamed them or something.

My brother, he played a witch thing—warlock, I think the sites are calling them. Anyway, a few months before they came, when he was still at home, he'd been playing the game when mom wanted him to go to the store for something. He was all annoyed and stuff, but he grabbed me out of my room while I was seeing which shirt I wanted to wear to Bethany's party and sat me down in front of the computer. He told me to press the space bar once a minute while he was gone. Apparently he was in a group and that'd let them know he was still there?

Well, I sat there, hitting the space bar way more than once a minute and it was kind of fun. I mean, the hopping animation is cute, I guess. But there was this dude beside me and he wasn't hopping at all. So when this other guy stopped near us and said some stuff I'd rather not repeat, I figured it had to be directed at that guy. So I figured out how to type in game and told him to jump. He ignored me. I didn't want to get in trouble with those other angry guys for hanging around him, so I decided I would take my jumping a bit to the left. And he followed me. So I moved again and he kept following me.

While it was really frustrating, when my brother came back, he asked me why I was screaming at his felguard to leave me alone. He shouldn't play with his name turned off. If I'd known that I was Lololock, then I would have known that thing was my minion. As it was, I'd been capslock typing for that jerk to come get his thing.

Greg laughed at me every time he saw me for the next week.

So not my point. Greg's character owned a felguard. One of those things attacking. So that means those people in...Aze-whatever control these things, right? Maybe if I can go there, I can appeal to their better nature and get them to call them off. Like, maybe they think we're a threat. Maybe they think we're gonna use nukes on them. I can explain that we won't and maybe they'll call their minions off.

You might wonder why I'm so quick to connect the Warcraft stuff to what's happening now. It's two things. That felguard picture my brother sent? So, I would rather not say how I procured my infrared goggles, but I have a pair. A lot of people are getting them one way or another because nobody wants to be caught off guard. My parents are in a convention on the west coast right now, assuming there still is a west coast. So...I mean, I'm seventeen, so being home alone isn't a big deal, but...you'd be amazed how much you want someone else around when there are demons slaughtering your country. Or maybe that's just common sense. Like I said, I'm kind of freaking out right now.

So I got my goggles and I've been watching out my window and I saw one walking down the street. My street. Just like, walking. It wasn't trying to destroy anything. But it was there. Meaning they were here. 

And it fit the shape of the felguard.

The other reason is that this thing showed up near the courthouse right about when that felguard did...it's from Warcraft. My brother's been playing that game forever and I know that for a long time whenever I used to walk by the computer, if he wasn't there I'd see this big gate thing with those two statue guys on either side, eyes all glowy. Eventually it got replaced by a dragon that flew around, and then a bigger, scarier dragon on a castle, but I digress. I asked him about it once and he said it was a portal between worlds. 

So with that showing up in town, I'm figuring we don't have long at all and I should do everything I can. I mean, I sent a tip to the police to destroy it, but I don't think they can. So I'm gonna try to use it. That's why I came here.

When I asked Greg about it, way back, it was one of my parentally forced attempts to 'bond'. I'd asked if you had to talk to the statues or something—it's a fantasy game so you could have to talk to inanimate objects, right?—and he said that you just walk through the center. No ceremony required.

Now I just have to figure out how to get past the police and the demons. No sweat, right?


	2. The World Between Worlds

It's fitting that they're called demons, you know. I mean, they really do bring hell with them. I was across the street, in that shop, like I said, wondering how I was gonna get through that portal, when...I don't know if I have a world to go back to.

I made it, by the way. Through the portal.

Um, I guess I need to back up a bit. Like I said, I was waiting, wondering if maybe I could go up and lie to the police and tell them I was there to inspect the portal. But then, I'm only seventeen and I totally look my age, so there's no way I'd look old enough to work for the government or anything. Even with fake IDs that look completely legitimate, bartenders won't give me alcohol. And I'm not great at lying. 

And I know that it works in the movies, but those shows always strike me as too perfect, you know? I mean, I know that we're supposed to believe that the heroes or villains or whoever it is that's lying is just really good at it, but I always think that those guards or whatever are kind of stupid to fall for it.

I think with that sort of mentality, I could never pull it off—I'd probably look at them like I thought they were stupid for believing me and that would just destroy my story. 

So, anyway, I was thinking maybe I could throw something to distract them or make a lot of noise and then run around to the other side or...really I had nothing.

And then the portal opened. I had to take my goggles off because, oh my God. I thought I was going to go blind. The whole gateway between the two statues lit up in this brilliant red and for like a minute, I couldn't see anything other than splotches across my vision. I was stunned, really. I'm not really one to curse, but I was definitely letting a few words fly. 

And then I looked back at that portal and without the infrared goggles, it was totally glowing green and swirly. The screaming started and at first I didn't really know what was going on. Like, I couldn't...it wouldn't register.

Here are these policemen, who are all about stopping the bad guy and keeping us safe and...and they were just.... There was so much blood. And I could hear laughing. They thought it was a joke. Killing all those people. All of us. Our world. It's a joke to them.

I think I kind of just shut down when I saw one of the men land near the shop window. He was torn in half. I've taken biology, but there's a difference between pictures and...

Like I said, I shut down. The gore and the horror stopped registering and all I could think was that I needed to get to that portal. So, I found my goggles from where I'd thrown them onto the ground and thankfully they still worked, though one of the lenses did have a huge crack in it. I couldn't look directly at the portal, but I could see that there really weren't that many who had come through yet. The street was still kinda empty.

So I made a run for it.

I was almost half way across the street when one charged me. Just before it got to me, there was this explosion and I was thrown through the air along with bits and pieces of road and monster. When they're dead, you can see them. It's like, after the life drains out of them, they're a part of our world.

Well, not only did the explosion leave a ringing in my ears, but the heat from that explosion left me partially blinded again. I jerked my goggles down around my neck and kept running, though I did look back over my shoulder and I saw tanks. Apparently the police were just a temporary thing until the army could come in. They sure weren't there when I first came, though that had been a few hours earlier.

Anyway, there were a few soldiers yelling at me, but I managed to blink past my splotchy vision and kept running toward the portal. I didn't even realize how scraped up one of my arms had gotten. 

I think the soldiers did hold off for a second, like they didn't want to hurt me accidentally, but then they started bombarding the place. I probably would have been killed, but I'd just made it to the steps of the portal when the next shell went off behind me and gave me a flying boost through.

I'm not sure what most people would think dimensional travel would be like, but it wasn't anything I'd expected. There was this white path that looked kind of like it was made of trillions of tiny stars. It just glowed near the center, but at the edges you could make out the individual specks. Like star dust.

I barely had time to register it before I was knocked over the side with the butt of a huge axe. And I fell into darkness, looking up to see them. In this world or non-world or whatever it was, I could see them so clearly and they were never ending. 

That I fell into darkness was a misnomer, really. If it had been darkness, there would have still been something there. This was just...a void. Nothingness. As I fell, I could see hundreds of starry paths, stretching out like webs, ending abruptly at those gates. The demons swarmed across most of them, but there were a few that were empty. Most of the empty ones had broken portals, I think. The statues looked cracked and worn, from what I could tell.

I don't know how long I fell; I don't think time was connected to that place in between the worlds. Eventually, though, I hit one of the deserted pathways. I suppose that was a lucky break, because a few demons—some like the felguards and some I'd never seen before—lashed out at me and tried to skewer me with their weapons and claws. It didn't hurt, landing, I mean. That time didn't apply, I think it messed with the way space worked, though I could be wrong. Maybe the walkways are just really soft or something. Because they weren't hard. They didn't really feel like having anything under my feet, but I still knew that they were there and that I wouldn't fall. It was weird.

I didn't hear her fall down after me. Or, I guess she probably jumped. But I was just getting to my feet, still pretty much stunned and wondering if any of this was real, when I heard chanting. Like in a really scary, scratchy voice. And even though we were in this great expansive place, her voice fell flat, as though she were being smothered in dirt or something.

When I turned around, I saw that she had all these extra arms and they were all either clasped together or holding swords or in that 'okay' hand gesture. I think that's really some meditative thing, but it feels wrong saying she was meditating. Meditation is a calm, soothing thing, and she was so...you could feel her cruelty.

I tried to run away, but as she continued to chant, the nothingness around us began to twist into somethingness. Like she was making dozens and dozens of portals. Not portals, more like tears into worlds. One minute there was nothing, the next I was overwhelmed with the sounds of a waterfall and some of the spray was hitting me. Then it would be gone. I saw glimpses into so many different places. Some were broken, desolate landscapes, others were thriving civilizations. Others were fighting the demons. I didn't recognize a lot of the creatures fighting them, but I hope they won.

I realized that she wasn't going to stop chanting until she'd expelled me from that non-world and so I started looking at the portals, trying to pick one that she might not want me to go into. 

As I was running past one portal that seemed to be connected to a frat house, I heard a slurred voice say something about an Azeroth. 

That was the Warcraft world. So I skidded to a stop, turned around, and tried to fling myself into the tear. However, as I stepped up to it—it was already too late for me to change my direction—it shifted away from whatever party had been going on and it wasn't until I'd stepped through it that I realized I was in the middle of the sky.

All at once the chanting stopped and my ears were filled with the sound of wind whipping around me. And I suddenly felt like I had definitive weight again—I hadn't realized how weightless I'd felt in that other place until my senses started functioning again—and as I looked down and saw the world flying up to greet me, I had to laugh at how stupid I'd been, though the wind stole my laughter, leaving me with nothing but a sucking breathlessness in my chest.


	3. Lost

So...I don't know where to begin, really. Not a lot has happened since I fell out of the sky, but it feels like way too much. I don't think I've even been here a day. Well, maybe a day or two at most.

I passed out before I hit the ground. And apparently I never hit it? There's like this huge language gap here and so I have to rely on understanding hand motions and I'm really way too freaked out to do that.

And I think I might be an indentured servant. To a gremlin.

Well, let's see if I can make a bit of sense about what's happened.

I woke up nice and comfy, wrapped in all these nice blankets. At first I thought I was back home, you know? That the whole world ending thing had been some long, horrible nightmare. 

But when I looked around, I didn't recognize the room at all. And the bed was on the shorter side, like it was for kids. In retrospect, I think it's probably for adults...if that's what they are.

Every time I start to think about them, I see their beady little red eyes in my head and it freaks me out. I mean, my brother played a regular person warlock thing, but he had said that there were elves, so I thought Warcraft was gonna be like Lord of the Rings. Like maybe the scariest thing would be a talking tree. I admit, I kinda slept through those movies. That was another 'bonding' moment with Greg.

It's not my fault they were so boring at the beginning. Like anyone cares about a bunch of hairy-toed, spastic....

Anyway.

I woke up in a strange room. Well, at first I was really confused, right? Like, I'd been pretty sure that'd I'd been plummeting to my death and all. So then I thought maybe this was heaven. That was right about when I moved my arm and found out just how much I'd hurt it.

No way would there be that much pain in heaven.

But my arm was all bandaged up. I was really careful moving the rest of my body, because I was afraid I'd find out that half my bones were broken, lying in wait for me to move wrong before they revealed that they were damaged, so that I'd twist or something and mess them up more and never be able to walk again. Or something.

I had a few other places that were sore, but that was it. And I was still in my clothes, which were blood stained and dirty and ripped and total proof that this wasn't heaven, on the off chance that the aches and pains were just a fluke.

Well, I wanted to just curl back up in the least painful position I could find, close my eyes, and pray that I would wake up with Greg making fun of me or Bethany calling to tell me about her newest crush. Anything that would prove my life was still normal.

So cliché, right? But it's not. 

I'm not some amazing girl like in the movies who has some secret power or talent that makes me awesome and totally cut out for adventures. I'm not super pretty, but there are boys who ask me out. I'll never be valedictorian, but I'm not failing any of my classes. I can't play an instrument or draw or sing...and I can lose at chess like nobody else can.

Sure, sometimes I wish that Zach Effron would sneak through my window and take me away to live in a mansion where I'll never have to worry about paying the bills—but where I can still get a cool job, like being a fashion designer—but that's about as much adventure as I'd ever really wanted.

I liked my normal life. 

It's just...with everything going crazy and that email from Greg. I was so scared of being alone. I think...I think that I thought maybe Greg would be doing the same thing, somehow. Like, I'd walk through the portal and there he'd be. With an anti-demon weapon that would save the world.

He's much more into heroics than I'll ever be.

Anyway, I guess I got a little side tracked.

So I knew it wasn't heaven and I knew it wasn't home. So I threw all my hopes toward Azeroth. And I have no clue if this is Azeroth.

I tried to look around to get a feel for whoever it was who must have saved me. Everything was really tidy, if not a little on the frugal side. And the house was made of wood, but it was far from the best craftsmanship I'd ever seen. Like, it's weird that someone so neat would live in a place where the wood's gotten so warped that there are visible cracks in the walls, letting in sunlight. 

And I could totally smell the ocean.

I wanted to make a good impression, so I combed my fingers through my hair and tried to make myself look a little bit more presentable, and then walked over to the door. Well, stumbled would more adequately describe it.

My left leg started cramping so badly the minute I tried to put weight on it. I never really had a charlie horse before, but I think that might have been one. It took a few minutes of me sucking in sharp breaths and staggering before my leg realized it wasn't going to get out of walking and finally eased up a bit.

By then I'd made it down a short hall and out into what I guess would be the living room/dining room/kitchen. There was an aroma in the air from something cooking that I wasn't really sure that I liked. I mean, I wasn't trying to be snotty or anything, it just...didn't smell like something from my world, I guess. 

And that makes sense...but still. I would have liked it if I'd been able to place what was cooking, you know? 

As I was wondering what the smell was, I saw him. I think it's a him. He only came up to about my waist and he had giant green ears. And his arms were way long and his hands were huge...and I'm not sure because my brain started to like short out or something so I kind of stopped registering details, but I think he only had four fingers on each hand.

I know I should have considered that with all the worlds I'd glanced into before that other species were just a part of life, but...I hadn't been within a few feet of those other species. I'd only seen a few of the demons up close and they weren't friendly at all. 

I think I started to hyperventilate because one of the gremlin's ears twitched and then they both perked up, sort of like what my neighbor's dog does when it's listening for squirrels, and then he, it turned around and looked right at me with these red little eyes. 

At first he was smiling...I think that was a smile. I hope it was...he had all these sharp little teeth and I couldn't help but think that he was going to eat me. Anyway, when he saw me, I must have had, "Dear God, I'm gonna die." written on my face because he raised his eyebrows and his smile(?) disappeared. 

When he spoke, I had no clue what he was saying. I wish I could equate what he said to some language I knew, but honestly, this was like nothing I'd ever heard before. 

I didn't respond because I was trying to remember Warcraft and figure out what the hell this little thing was, when he walked over and touched my hand with his giant fingers.

I'm not really proud of what I did after that, but in my defense, I think I handled things better than some would have.

The second he touched me it was like everything was real. Like somehow I'd been living in this protective bubble that kept all the craziness an arm's length away, that allowed me to treat it like it wasn't real, allowed me to make foolhardy decisions like running through portals. And with a touch, he broke it.

I screamed and ran away. The house was pretty small, so it was easy to reach the front door, but when I opened it, there were dozens of the little gremlins on the street—I use street loosely...really it was more of a bunch of planks of wood nailed together haphazardly—and they all looked at me with those little red eyes and so I swung the door shut and looked for somewhere else to run, saw that the one whose house I was in was standing right behind me, arms crossed and eyebrows raised, and I just burst into tears and fell to the floor. And re-hurt my already hurt leg, so then I started crying even harder.

That freaky little gremlin is kinda nice, you know? I was still freaking out, but he gave me this little handkerchief. I think I ended up hugging him and crying on his shoulder, but I was too busy coming to terms with really being in another world to remember.

God, I don't know how long I bawled. When I finally stopped, and looked around, there were a few gremlins leaning through a window near the door, watching me with their creepy eyes glued on me, like I was the freak.

The one whose house I was in went and got me something cold to drink—I think it was alcohol. It tasted really awful and the second it hit my tongue I was gagging and all the gremlins were laughing at me.

The freakiest thing, though, was that he didn't have a fridge or anything. Instead, while he was touching the mug, he mumbled something and I saw frost spread across the surface of the thing. From his fingertips.

That actually kind of gave me hope, right? Maybe he's one of those warlock things. Maybe I ended up in the right place after all.

Anyway, when he saw that I wasn't going to immediately curl up in the fetal position and go all despondent on him, he started talking really fast. I think I must have one of those dumb looks on my face because he trailed off in what I think was the middle of his sentence. Or maybe that's just the way they talk. There was a lot of trailing off going on in the conversations outside.

Then he motioned to me and said something else. 

I still couldn't look him in the eyes. My friend had those red contact lenses once, right? And I'd thought those were freaky, but there was something just completely unsettling about seeing an actual iris that was red. When I dared a glance at our audience, not all of them were red eyed, though they did look creepy, none the less. If would figure I'd be saved by the scariest one of them all.

I finally shrugged and mumbled that I couldn't understand him.

He leaned his head toward me, his ears perking up again. Then he shuffled forward and started speaking—much slower—again. He would say something and then pause and watch me and then say something else. It took me a minute to realize that he was rotating through different languages. 

I'd never heard any of them, so finally I held up a hand to get him to stop talking. 

"Do you speak English?"

Dumb, I know. But I took three years of Spanish and I can't even remember how to ask how to get to the bathroom. While I really wish I'd paid more attention to other languages, I don't think any of them would have helped me here.

The little gremlin gave me the strangest look and then looked at the others in the window and started talking in that first language. I think he was asking if any of them knew what I'd said, because a few called out things in even more languages. 

Of course I didn't know any of them.

And then it dawned on me that in the time it would take me to learn to communicate why I'd come and talk them into calling off their demons that my world would already be gone and I burst into tears again.

Somebody from out the window reached out to pat my shoulder and I jumped and dropped the mug and it shattered on the floor. The gremlin who owned it's face went all blank and he stared down at it like it had been some great treasure. Then his lips dipped into one of the most animated frowns I've ever seen and he held his hand out.

I had already started to pick up the pieces and apologize inbetween my hiccups—why do I always get those when I cry?—and when I saw his hand come toward me, I cringed away at first. He wasn't as sympathetic as before.

When I merely stared at him blankly, tears still running down my cheeks, he rubbed his fingers together, sort of like that thing people do when they want money? I think that's what he wanted, so I supposed that it made sense that I pay him for his mug, even though it seemed a little heartless to be harping on something like that when I was a wreck as I was. 

But I fished through my pockets and found that I had five dollars to my name. 

I really didn't think that portal thing through.

So I gave him the money. And he just stared at it and then it occurred to me that, duh, they probably didn't use American currency. I almost started crying again, but he gave me this really cross look and I was too freaked out...like maybe he really would eat me if I annoyed him enough. 

So I settled for quiet sniffles while he shooed the people at the window away after having a few quick words with them and then went about picking up the rest of the broken clay...or whatever it was made of.

Then he pointed at me and did all these hand motions. I'm not completely sure, but I think I have to work off however much that mug cost. And maybe room and board. And the price of being saved. And...I really don't know what all his hand motions meant. 

But he kept my five dollars.


	4. Lovable Little Gremlin

Ugh. I want to start banging my head against the wall and keep going until either it breaks or I do. Unfortunately, I think it'll be the wall first.

Stupid plywood town....

I take that back. Fizz—that's the little gremlin's name, I think, because he pointed to himself and said it over and over until I stared calling him that—said that this town is a lot sturdier than it looks.

That's a bit misleading, I suppose. 

When I say he said that...what happened was I was walking across his kitchen when the floorboards went all creaky and I freaked out. 

He's getting used to my panic attacks. And we're getting pretty decent with the whole nonverbal communication thing.

Anyway, I made what I think he considers to be my trademark, terrified squeak and he wandered in from his room in the back, a single eyebrow raised. So I went over and made the floorboards creak again and then jumped away, not wanting to fall into the ocean below. There are like giant, angry fish in the water here. That will eat you. Seriously. This is not like my terror that the gremlins would eat me, this one is legit.

This wasn't a typical creak, mind you. I could hear the wood straining and cracking. But Fizz just walked over, hopped on the boards a couple times and then shrugged his shoulders.   
So...I assume that meant not to worry.

I still don't know how to tell Fizz or the others here why I'm here. Or that I'm from another world. I tried. Fizz had some old school parchment and ink and I got him to let me see it and drew some stick figure drawings of the Burning Legion destroying my world. My felguards aren't that great and I really wish I had printed out that email. That picture would've probably summed stuff up so much better. 

It doesn't help that I couldn't get the hang of the ink on the quill so it would go from super thick, blotchy lines to scratchy, thin ones. I even punched a whole or two in the paper while I was getting the hang of it.

I think I have to pay him back for that stuff, too. But, I have been working off my debt. I've been accompanying him around town, carrying his stuff, and doing household chores.

A few people have tried talking to me, but so far, no dice. I'm getting people's names though. There's Fizz, obviously, and then Sprig over at the market place and Drizzle hangs out near the motel, inn thing. I think Fizz wanted me to stay there instead of his place, but I didn't want to be around so many strangers, so I gave him pitiful, teary eyes until he took my hand and brought me home.

I know it isn't really home, but....

I think he wanted to get rid of me because of his lady friend. She's come by once or twice, but she won't talk to me. In fact, she looks through me. 

The first time she did it, I thought I might be fading out or phasing or something, back into that in-between world, and I panicked. I grabbed Fizz's shoulder to keep from going back to that non-world. That just made her angry. Which made Fizz angry. He banished me to my room and wouldn't talk/sign to me for the rest of the night. He even glared every time I poked my head out into the hall to see if he was still pissed off.

I think Fizz has tried to get me to wander around a bit on my own, too, but I don't really want to.

I know what you're thinking. Why not? Maybe someone else here somehow speaks English, and if I looked for them, I'll find them and get back on track to saving the world. But...it's not just gremlins in this town. There are all sorts of things here, most of which I don't have names for. And word of the mysterious human who doesn't speak anyone's language has gotten around, so when I point at them, they just tell me their names, not what they are.

Oh. I did find a few humans here, though none of them speak English. And they all look kind of...unkempt. And one of the guys was watching me with this, "I'd totally tap that." expression, so I really don't want to find myself alone in an alley with him.

I mean, maybe he's just a super nice guy who's never heard of a shower. But...everyone here—who's not a gremlin...and even some of them fell into this category—seem kind of pirate-y. Maybe it's different in this world, but I still kind of expect them to go around raping and pillaging. And they do get pretty rowdy at the inn. Fizz lives half-way across town and we can hear them. Every night. It doesn't seem to bother Fizz much.

Sometimes I think, maybe I'll get used to it. And then I remember that I can't. I have to get help. So I started pointing at things, trying to get Fizz to say their names. I mean, I seriously needed to speed that bridging the language gap up.

I thought Fizz caught my drift. I made a bunch of desperate hand motions and flailed my stick figure drawings for emphasis when he seemed bored with mumbling his word for spoon or bowl. However, instead of resuming our lesson, he scuttled off and holed himself up in his room. 

I caught a glimpse in there once or twice. He's got a hammock—though it's piled with stuff—and stacks and stacks of papers and books. And his walls are covered with notes and pictures of random creatures and magic-y looking stuff. I think he's a scholar of some kind. I'm not allowed in there, but I noticed that he didn't seem to have a bed or anything, so I think I might have taken his. I was kind of worried that he didn't have a place to sleep, but he hasn't said anything about it. Not that I would understand if he did.

I felt bad about that, but that's why I figured that I ought to learn the language, right? Then I could get my help and be out of Fizz's hair. 

But...ugh. It is so hard to focus on what I'm trying to do here, sometimes.

There is a constant drum of voices in the background at all times. It's the most nerve wracking part of being here. It's like, there are always a million people awake at any given hour and they all have to talk and shout and it drives me crazy. I hardly get any sleep. 

I was so tired that at times I'd think that I could make out what they were saying, but then when I'd listen in, it would just be gibberish.

Fizz spends more and more time in his room—I've been here almost two weeks at this point—but every time he comes out, he points at me and recites something. It's always almost the same, with a word or two changed each time. After he says his little chant, he looks at me like I was supposed to understand him.

Then he grumbles and heads into town, with me, his human pack mule, in tow.

I like having a routine, it's calming, but I'm having a harder and harder time sleeping with each night. I keep seeing those police men getting torn apart or imagine the same thing happening to my friends, my family, because I couldn't move fast enough. I keep thinking that if Greg was here, he'd already have mobilized an army.

In my dreams, Greg's always the last to die. And he always looks at me and says how disappointed he is in me. That I failed him.

Fizz doesn't know what was going on with me and I don't know the hand motions that would explain it to him. But he holds my hand and pats my shoulder whenever I start to cry.

It's weird, but he doesn't scare me at all anymore. I've even started to find comfort in those little, red eyes of his.

I wish I could tell him about my dad and mom. And Greg. A lot of the gremlins work with little mechanical things and I think they'd like stories from my world. Of iPhones and computers. Maybe it's just that I'm homesick. 

And afraid that I don't have a home left.

Like I said, I've been pretty frustrated and I still sort of am, though it's getting better. Much better.

Tonight, just a few hours ago, everything changed. I was doing dishes—carefully; I didn't wanted to break anything else—when Fizz came out of his room like he always did. I was just drying my hands when he recited his usual chant.

However, this time, it was like something—a brick or...a brick house—smacked me upside the head. I dropped to the floor, seeing stars.

But even as I was trying to grasp what had happened—even with that immense pressure, my head didn't hurt—the familiar drum of voices outside overwhelmed me.

"—once! Goin' twice! Sold—"

"—n den Ah told dat fool dat he ain't got a clue what de loa be tinkin' about him 'n his—"

"Aye, lads. This be a real lager. Not like that mess they sell in—"

So many voices; so many conversations. It was so...just when I thought I was going crazy, or that I should just find something to plug my ears, I heard a voice much closer clear his throat. 

"Ya okay, kid?"

It was like something straight out of Jersey Shore. I looked up, for a second expecting to see a TV or someone from my world. Instead, Fizz met my gaze, a single eyebrow quirked. I couldn't believe it. I had understood him, hadn't I?

I'd understood everyone. And still could. Still can.

As I blinked through my shock, Fizz's face fell, disappointment overtaking his earlier hope. "I was sure I had it that time...." he mumbled.

"Had what?" I asked, instinctively, realizing afterward that my throat had felt weird, like it didn't recognize the worlds it was forming, even though I'd understood them.

His face went all blank for a second and then he broke out into this huge grin. "Translation spell." He reached out and tussled my hair. "Ya got one hell of a magic resistance, ya know that?"

I don't know much about magic or spells, but with those words, all the hope that had been draining out of me with every day, every nightmare, came bounding back. I can finally recruit an army to save my world.

Maybe I can even get Fizz to come along.


	5. Chapter 5: Help?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy tries to recruit a goblin to help save her world.

I don't think Fizz believed me. At first anyway. And maybe he still doesn't, but...well...

I mean, he tried to launch into a line of questions about how I'd ended up falling out of the sky—apparently he caught me with some spell called slow fall, which took him like a million times to try to cast on me, and he totally thought I was gonna hit the ground before his spell took effect. Then, as I was trying to figure out what to call the lady with all those arms who had opened those tears in the dimensions so I could explain it to him, he asked if I had a lost gryphon somewhere. For a second, I was really confused because I was pretty sure that griffons were something from Harry Potter, but I...I'll deal with that if it ever comes up again.

Honestly, I suppose I could have been a bit nicer and not just ignored all his questions. It was just, the clock is ticking, right? So I launched into an interrogation of my own.

My first question was if this place was Azeroth and he seemed kinda thrown by it. He just stared at me for a few minutes and finally frowned.

"What're ya tryin' ta pull here, kid?"

That was his response. A simple yes or no would have been more than enough, but instead he had to dodge the question? So, you know, I'm kind of thinking about how my friends could be dying as we speak and I got a little snappy. I didn't mean to.

"If this is Azeroth you have to call off your stupid demons."

His expression blanked and he just stared at me. Again.

What? Was I turning into some weird creature with tentacles for arms? ...they probably already have those here. Ew.

It was then that it occurred to me that maybe he actually didn't know what I was talking about. Maybe it was just a few people who controlled the demons. So I did my best to start at the beginning. Well, what I figured was the beginning.

At first, he still looked kind of annoyed and all. But then, when I explained about the email and mentioned the phrase Burning Legion, his eyes got all wide and his jaw clenched. Like his was afraid of them.

It really threw me. I mean, all this time I'd been figuring that these guys were the ones in control and now _he_ was afraid?

I think I fish mouthed for a second before finally managing to talk again. "You guys have warlocks. You control them, right? You can call them off?"

He stood there for a minute staring at me and then he slowly ran his fingers over his head, flattening his hair and making his ears look like they poked out even further. Then he began pacing. And pacing. He'd stop, look at me, open his mouth, and then close it and go back to pacing.

It was freaking me out.

Finally, he stopped. And stared at me like I had a third eye on my forehead—I bet they have critters like that, too—and slowly he considered that maybe what I'd been saying, disjointed as it was, had some merit of truth to it.

"Ya sayin' ya from another world?" I nodded fervently. "And the Burning Legion is attackin' that world?" Another nod. "So you came here to get us to stop them."

"Exactly." I nearly hugged him. "So who do I talk to?"

He frowned. "Look, kid. I hate to disappoint, but we barely managed to repel the Burning Legion ourselves...and by 'we' I mean some fine heroes of the Alliance and Horde. I, personally, was never there." He brought his hands up and swept them out in a 'no way' sort of gesture. "Never fought a demon. Hear they're nasty though—"

He cut himself off when he looked at me and saw that I was ready to start bawling again. I mean, duh the demons are nasty. I wouldn't have crossed dimensions for nothing. I think that was when he really started to believe me. Assuming he's not just humoring me.

Fizz sort of floundered for a moment and finally walked over and patted one of my hands. "Ya know who ya need to talk to?" As I blinked hopefully, tears blurring my vision somewhat, he looked like he was torn between actually telling me or not. Finally he sighed. "The draenei of the Alliance have dealt with the demons a lot." He waved one of his hands like he was trying to call a thought to him. "It's sorta like...their mission statement to defeat the Burnin' Legion."

That was easily the best thing I'd heard in weeks, and not just 'cause I hadn't been able to understand most everything. "That's wonderful. Where do I go? Can we call them? Do you guys have phones—no, you don't, do you? Is there like some spell thing you can call them with?"

He held his hands up to get me to stop asking questions. I think he was kind of regretting that translation spell...

He seemed overwhelmed by my questions for a minute before finally darting down the hall and into his study. I kind of hoped he was like calling those drain-whatever things, but when he came back, he just had his cloak and bag that he generally had with him when we went out shopping. I started to follow him, but he held his hands up and then pointed at me and then down the hall. "Stay here until I come back, got it?"

With that, he was out the door. He couldn't have at least told me where he was going? Did he think I was crazy? Was he going to tell those guard dudes to come drag me away—and it would be some serious dragging, 'cause these gremlins are only like three feet tall, if that?

Needless to say I was so not happy. I mean, I don't know what I really expected, but it wasn't to be abandoned. At first, I kind of dawdled around, waiting for Fizz to get back. Minutes ticked by and turned into an hour and I began to think maybe he'd run away or something. Yeah, he generally spent a few hours gathering stuff and talking to people, but surely he got how urgent saving my world was.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got that he hadn't stuck around or promised to help me get those heroes he'd mentioned on board. So, I decided that if he wasn't going to help, I would help myself. I know I should have thought of that a long time ago, but at least now I can talk to people.

And it occurred to me that maybe this translation spell would let me read their writing, too. So I went back into Fizz's room that he always holed himself up in. I could read it, sure enough.

But none of it made sense. I felt kind of like a fifth grader reading an astro-physics text book. There were words, like to and of that I got, but beyond that, it might as well have stayed gibberish.

I was so frustrated that I banged my hand against the wall and all the papers on it just sloffed off onto the floor. Like a little paper tidal wave.

Fizz was gonna be so pissed off.

Assuming he hadn't headed for the hills.

Well, I figured I should probably avoid burning the one bridge I had, so I started picking up the papers and trying to remember where they went. It didn't take long to figure out that I was never gonna figure out how to put them back without his noticing, so I started just stacking them up, as neat as possible. I thought about running away to avoid his wrath, but quickly nixed that idea. I needed him, whether he wanted to accept that or not.

And he was going to help me save my world. I would harass him until he brought me to those...whatevers. Burning Legion slayers.

I'd gotten about half the papers off the floor when I heard something hit the door and I whirled around, clutching the papers to my chest—Fizz could use fire, I'd learned, and I thought maybe if he was really mad, he'd avoid throwing any my way if he saw I was holding something of his. But there was nothing there. No Fizz.

I started to get up off my knees, but paused. If he wasn't here yet, then I still had time to pick up before he got back. And really, I'd had a bit of time to cool down and realize that I wasn't mad at him, but rather the stupid demons.

So I went back to grabbing the papers, but stopped when one was caught under what for a split instant I thought was a table leg. Then I realized tables don't have matted fur. It was like a mix between a claw and a hoof.

I looked up slowly and stared into the face of some sort of hideous animal. If you could call it a face. It had no eyes, that I could tell. Instead, it just had a large gaping mouth full of hundreds of sharp teeth, with saliva dripping out and splashing the floor below—including the papers. Two horns protruded from its shoulders and it had these weird appendage things curling up over its head, that reminded me of deformed starfish.

There was this long, terrifying pause where I was too dumbstruck to know what I was looking at, and then some of its saliva hit my hand. Instinctively, I jerked back. It let out this frenzied howl, as though all it had been waiting for was for my fear to reach a certain point of 'oh shit, I'm gonna die' and it lunged forward.


	6. Chapter 6: Azerothians in Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Legion attacks Booty Bay.

I have to say, all things considered, I'm kind of glad that those demons attacked me. I mean, sure I've got a scar on my forehead that looks wicked bad and goes into my hairline, but Fizz has _no_ doubts now.

No one in Booty Bay—that's the name of the town, by the way, and apparently the little gremlins are actually goblins, though I don't really get what the difference is—doubts me anymore.

They also kind of want me out of the town. People are whispering that I'm a 'demon magnet.'

Hmm, I always seem to do this, don't I? Jump ahead and forget where I am in the story? Let me go back.

So I was cleaning Fizz's study when I saw that weird deformed dog thing—felhunter, apparently—and it lunged at me.  Now, I'm no athlete, but when you have some uber evil thing going for your throat, you'd be amazed the sort incentive that can make for speed.

I threw myself backward and it ended up raking my leg—yes, the same one I hurt before—but that was a lot better than snapping my head off.  Then I managed to get to my feet, but I couldn't walk very well, so I was hobbling toward the wall when it lunged again and I hit the floor. Luckily, it was already midair when I did, and it totally went face first into the wall.

Well, I wasn't about to wait around to see if it was okay, so I hobbled out of the room and closed the door behind me. It didn't have any hands, right? So I figured it would be trapped in there, if it hadn't broken its neck and was still alive, until I could get Fizz.

As I was making my way down the hall, looking for something that I could use as a crutch and totally not finding anything, I began to hear these loud crashing noises. Like cannonballs from in movies hitting water...and wood.

Just before I made it to the door, the real cannons started. The pirate guys—they really were pirates!—had gone to their boats and they were firing on these giant green flaming rocks that were raining down from the sky and crashing into the water and through the walkways and houses.

The one thing, looking back, that seemed kind of odd was that the fires from those rock dudes—the rocks, once they landed, stood up and turned into giant angry people things...infernals, I think they were calling them—weren't spreading at all. Maybe Fizz and the other goblins were using magic to contain them or something, but you would have thought that just striking a match in Booty Bay would be cause for worry that the whole place would end up a smoldering pile of ash in the water.

Apparently not.

So, let me just pause to say that I still don't understand a lot of stuff, so I'm just blaming magic when I have no clue. Until someone corrects me, anyway.

So the rock dudes were raining from the sky and destroying everything. And, sure there were a few people screaming, here and there—me definitely—but for the most part, everyone was just fighting. And it was wicked awesome to watch. I mean, there were a few people all over the place, but most of the fighters came out of the inn. A few were even strapping armor on as they ran, looking all pissed off, so I'm pretty sure the demons interrupted their night on the town, which just made them angrier.

They channeled that anger really well.

Their weapons were all glowy and their clothes had all these pretty designs....and they were beating down those demons like it was nothing.

I mean, holy crap. There were shadows and fire flying through the air and this one tiny little, big eared, big eyed, green haired creature had a sword as long as me and was swinging it around like he was a freakin' dreidel.

I was so dumbstruck that they could beat down these monsters so quickly, that I kind of missed the infernal thing climbing onto the walkway beside me. I mean, at first. It sort of radiates this really uncomfortable heat, so you catch on that it's there pretty fast, but I probably could have been a few yards down the walkway from him, if I'd been paying attention.

Anyway, I looked over right as it was heaving itself onto the platform. It only had one foot—are those rocks really feet?—on the same level as me, but apparently that was all the leverage it needed to reach out and try to hit me.  I ducked down to the ground again, since it'd worked oh so well last time, but instead of him just missing me, the demon thing brought its rock arm onto the walkway and just slid it back, dragging me to the edge and flinging me off it.

My head hit the walkway below as I fell into the water.

Remember all those angry fish? They like blood.

I was pretty lucky, though. One of those heroes must have seen me fall into the water because just as I was preparing to be fish bait—I was trying to swim to one of the ramps leading out of the water, but with a bum leg I wasn't gonna out swim the fish—suddenly just...magic, okay? Magic stuff happened.

These lights were shooting down from the sky and killing the fish. I made it to the ramp and crawled up onto it and looked around for my hero, but I couldn't tell who it had been. As soon as one enemy was down, they were just turning toward another. So...I never really got a chance to thank them.

As I was laying there, wondering if I ought to try to get to the inn, so that if another thing attacked me, I wouldn't have to run far for help, the sky cleared up. Did I mention it'd been all dark and ominous? I hadn't really noticed until it wasn't anymore. Weird, right?

But, I was kind of hanging out, with this black haze around the edge of my vision, when I realized someone was calling to me. So I looked around and it was Fizz. He'd been up on the path above me when I managed to call out and he used that slow fall spell to walk down through the air to me. It was kind of cool to see. Though...it took me a second to realize there weren't two of him.

Concussions are so lame.

Well, _some_ body must have used magic on me, because I started to feel a little bit better. Not much, though. But it was enough that I could struggle to my feet. Fizz said he was sorry that I couldn't lean on him, since he's so short and all, but he let me use this wicked looking staff he had. I'd never seen that thing before, so I kind of wonder where he was hiding it.

But, we headed toward the rest of the town and he asked me why I was out during the attack anyway when he specifically told me to stay in the house and I mentioned the dog thing. He seemed kind of suspicious about why it'd been locked in his study, but he didn't say anything.

Well, some of the ramps leading to the higher sections of the town had been destroyed, so we ended up having to go by the inn and it turned out they'd made a makeshift sort of infirmary there.

Fizz just patted my hand, called Drizzle, that goblin at the inn I waved at from time to time, over and told me that he'd be back for me after he made sure that felhunter thing was dead. For the first time, I didn't mind him leaving me alone. Maybe because I could understand people now.

Well, at first this human woman came over, but when she tried to use magic to heal me, not much happened. I mean, I felt a bit better, but I still had cuts and stuff. She tried a few more times and it was clear that she was exhausting herself and wasn't making much progress.

I remembered that Fizz had said something about magic resistance or intolerance or something, so I told her that I was okay and she should help the others who'd been injured. She'd simply smiled, promised to come back to me and headed over to see about mending the others.

While I was sitting there, with Drizzle happily chattering my ear off—he's the one who explained the names of everything that I know now, like goblins and infernals—I watched those people who'd just been so amazing in fighting.

Even though during the battle they'd all fought side by side, without regard to who was who, now that the fighting had died down, I noticed that the nice woman who'd tried to help me skipped over a few of the injured as she went around healing. They were scary looking, to me, but then, I think that's just because I'm still uneasy around non-human people.

One was tall and lanky, with tusks and blue skin and purple hair. And he only had three fingers on each hand. It was so strange to see...I mean, I'd kind of avoided staring at anyone while I was here before, since it just made them talk to me in languages I couldn't understand. But now...now I was really beginning to see how many different creatures there were in Azeroth.

He had a pretty bad cut on one of his arms and was trying to bandage himself up. But she just walked right by him. And he didn't even look up like he'd been snubbed or anything. It was like they didn't exist in each others' worlds.

Then, this walking corpse shambled over to him—that thing _really_ freaked me out...I mean, who wants to see something undead walking around?—and for a minute I don't know why, but I was just terrified for that blue creature. However, the zombie guy simply knelt down beside him and healed him. Then they laughed and nudged one another, joking about something too softly for me to hear.

The blue-skinned guy must have felt me watching him because he abruptly looked my way and frowned. Frowns are so much more emphasized when there are tusks sticking out of someone's mouth.

So I turned my attention toward my feet.

I didn't get it though. I mean, that guy was hurt, so why had the woman just ignored him, like he didn't exist? Why had he been forced to wait for that other guy? Was it because he wasn't human? Or maybe healing spells are picky and you have to tailor them to the species? I mean, if their anatomy is different, I could see how a human healing spell might not work on a goblin, maybe. Like, maybe it would try to grow an extra finger on their hand or something.

But then, I don't really get how magic works—beating a dead horse, I know.

I dunno. She had a sort of Mother Theresa vibe to her, and I totally don't think that Mother Theresa would have turned away someone like that. Plus, if she was a healer, wouldn't she know how to tailor her spells for anyone? If that's how they work, anyway....

I tried not to over think it, talking to Drizzle some more—even though I totally forgot to ask why the town didn't go up in flames—but I started to worry about Fizz. He wasn't back yet, so my eyes took to wandering the crowd, watching for him.

I still had his staff. Would he be okay without it?

As I looked around, I noticed more and more of that divide. I couldn't name all the species present, but they were clearly in two different groups. And each group's healers ignored the people outside of their own.

It seemed really dumb.

That blue guy was watching me, too. I guess I'd caught his attention, because every time my gaze went near where he was seated, I could see him, watching me and Drizzle. Everyone was starting to settle down, when I heard someone who sounded Jamaican say something about a woman not getting any heals.

I don't know how I knew it was that blue guy, but even as I turned to look his way, that corpse from earlier came to squat in front of me and I totally jumped and let out one of my terrified squeaks. I mean, it's not every day you come eye to glowing eye with a dead person. He frowned as I watched him in terror, but simply finished the healing spell he'd started.

His frown got deeper and creepier when he realized that his spells didn't do much. However, I don't know if he took it as a challenge or what, but he pulled up my bloody pant leg and put one of his hands over my cuts. It was so weird feeling. Like, I've never touched a dead person before, but you can just tell that they aren't living anymore. His skin was cold and it felt kind of heavy against me, like dead weight—no pun intended.

I guess concentrating on one specific injury helped focus the magic or whatever, but he healed my leg pretty fast—I think he was using big heals, if there's a difference in types of heals—and then did the same thing to my head.

When he was done, he just stood back up and started toward his friend.

I told him thank you. It seemed the least I could do and I wanted to apologize for being scared of him, but he just turned and stared at me when I thanked him, like he hadn't been expecting me to say anything at all.

Did I come off that rude to everyone? Or was it just because I'm human so he assumed I was in the group with the other humans?

When I looked back around at the other people, I saw that woman. She looked really angry. Like I'd somehow betrayed her personally by accepting that zombie guy's help. I'd been too scared to tell him to go away and honestly, what did it matter?

I didn't have much time to consider what was going on though—like how the other humans were starting to glare and whisper—because Fizz finally came back, with the leaders of the town, no less.

It only took a moment before they ushered me off into the inn for a private council about my story of where I'd come from. As soon as I was finished, the mayor or whatever—I think he introduced himself as a captain, but I was kind of caught up in everything and didn't pay attention—told me that he hoped I got the help I needed, but that I couldn't stay in Booty Bay.

Apparently another demon attack might actually send the town into the ocean. He gave me the night to get my things together—like I had anything—and suggested I talk to the heroes in town for assistance. If nothing else, he said I could head north, to some place called Stormwind.

I'm not too worried, though. I mean, if this Stormwind has even half the fighters that Booty Bay had tonight, then we can totally save my world.

 


	7. Not With the In Crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy struggles with how hopeless things seem.

I hate griffons.

I hate them, I hate them, I hate them.

They are nothing but evil, smelly, dirty flying death traps! And people try to complain about airplanes? I'd rather ride on a plane that was missing three of its four engines than ever touch a griffon again. They try to lull you into thinking they're nice with those big eyes and then they buck and shake the whole time you're on them, like they want to throw you off and skewer you on the trees below.

And when you try to make them slow down, they peck at your hands. And their beaks are huge.

I didn't know a world using magic meant it had to be stuck in the dark ages. The whole lot of those stupid birds need to be put down. It would be a mercy for this world. I'm amazed they aren't leading the Burning Legion, themselves!

Okay, maybe that's a little too far. But I can totally see them getting along with demons and giving them rides.

Stupid bird-lion things.

...

My life sucks right now.

At first, I was all happy, right? Because those heroes were so good at killing the demons. So after the meeting with the captain, Fizz ran home to get my infrared goggles—that was my one, earthly possession not on my person at the moment—and I decided that that moment was as good a time as any to recruit for my cause.

Drizzle was behind the bar, serving drinks and apparently demon slaying makes people really thirsty. I tried to get him to tell me if there were any of those drain-things around that fight the Burning Legion on a regular basis, but he just shrugged and said he'd help me later. He hadn't heard about my ultimatum to get out of town yet.

So I sort of wandered the room. When I saw that woman who'd tried to help me, I tried to put on my best smile and walked over to her. At first I waited because I didn't want to interrupt her conversation, but again, the clock was ticking. And she and her friends were just ignoring me.

"Excuse me," I made sure to smile and look grateful as I thanked her for her earlier help. She gave me this withering look, but at least she looked at me at all. I mean, I know she wanted me to go away, but I couldn't just leave. I needed her help. "Um...I noticed you guys are really good with killing demons and I was wondering if I could get your help."

Greg would have said it so much better. He would have probably launched into a whole assessment of our world's dilemma and they would have been shouldering their weapons and heading out the door in moments. Instead, the woman just kept staring at me.

Then she gave me an icy smile. "Why not get your Horde friends to help you?"

Horde? I didn't really get it at the time, but I kind of figured that I did need a sort of horde of people to help. She must have thought I was stupid or something, because she clarified.

"You speak gutterspeak so well."

Gutterspeak? Is that what they called English? Was that the goblin language? What did that have to do with anything?

I stared at her blankly. I didn't know what I'd done, but whatever it was, it must have been bad. I ran my fingers behind my neck as I realized that they were all watching me with these cold stares. "Um...I'm sorry if I offended you—" one of her friends scoffed, "but my home's being attacked and I need—"

"Where's your home?" One of the men across from her interrupted me. Even though he seemed like he wasn't too fond of me either, he had a sort of responsible look about him. Like he couldn't let innocents die, even if he thought they were morons. I guess I took too long to respond, because he asked, "How far is it from here?"

I hadn't thought about that. "I don't really know...."

A few of them got these cruelly amused looks. Another of the men spoke up. "Is there a general direction we should head?"

I floundered.

"How about a name?"

"Charlotte," I straightened up. "Charlotte, North Carolina. Um, it's—" What was I gonna do? Give them a geography lesson for a world they'd never been to? I felt like I was drowning. Greg should have been the one here, not me. I don't know the sort of stuff that I could reference to get them on my side. I thought about complimenting their armor or fighting skills, but I didn't really know what to say. You swing an axe well? I think it's awesome you can use magic?

"Never heard of it," the second guy said, grinning all smug like.  He shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

"If I don't get help soon...." I wanted to cry. Why were they being so cruel? Wasn't saving people more important that petty things like gutterspeak? I think my lower lip quivered or something, because the woman's face flickered for a moment toward compassion.

"You said demons attacked your town?"

"Yes."

"How long ago?"

"Two weeks. Maybe a little while longer."

The second man seemed to lose interest almost immediately. I could see the others' attention waning, too. "No point in us going then."

"What?" I couldn't believe him.

He stared at me blankly. "If demons attacked two weeks ago then either they were repelled by now by someone else, or the town's gone. There's no point in us going there."

"Or maybe," I had to pause to keep myself from crying. I wouldn't burst into tears in front of them. I couldn't. "Maybe they're holding out. And they need help."

"It doesn't matter if we can't find them."

I couldn't listen to any more and my eyes were burning with tears, so I turned away from them and walked outside. I heard one of them mutter something about tact to the one who had been so mean, but none of them tried to apologize. They just went back to their drinking. I think Drizzle called out to me as I left, but I didn't look toward him. I couldn't look anyone in the eyes or I would have just started sobbing.

Not like it mattered much. The second the warm night air hit my face and I saw the way those infernals had damaged the town, I just kind of slumped against the wall and started bawling. They were right. My friends were dead by now because I hadn't tried hard enough. I hadn't been smart enough to figure something out sooner.

I wanted to just give up. Maybe throw myself to those angry fish. But then, just because my friends were gone, didn't mean my whole world was. Maybe the demons had reached the equator by now, or maybe they'd finally gotten held up on their march. Maybe with the infrared technology, we were finally repelling them.

And even at the rate they'd been going, there still had to be some of my world to save.

I didn't know what to do and I wasn't even going to be allowed to stay in Booty Bay until I did.

I didn't hear Fizz come up, but at some point I realized that I wasn't alone anymore and looked over to see him sitting beside me. He must think that I'm pitiful. That all I do is cry. I guess it's all I've done.

When I finally managed to rein in my sniffles, he handed me my goggles and then a small backpack. "Look, kid. I know it ain't much, but...this should help ya while ya look for help in Stormwind, yeah?"

I felt myself pale. "You aren't coming with me?"

"I already told ya," he patted my hand. "Before today, I never fought a demon in my life. I'm no hero, kid."

"But I don't know what to do," I whispered. "I'm not a hero, either."

Fizz gave me this half-hearted smile and patted my shoulder. "Ya done more for ya world than half the people in this one have done for theirs already. That seems pretty heroic to me."

"How have I done anything?" I couldn't take it. I didn't want to be coddled, I wanted promises that would be kept of people storming through the portals to fight back the Legion. "Even if I get help, how do I get back home?" I thought I might start crying again, but I was too tired to. "It was dumb luck that I got here to begin with."

"Talk to the draenei," Fizz said, nodding firmly. "They've been to several worlds, themselves, so I bet they can figure something out for you." As soon as he said it, for a split second, he looked like he'd regretted it. Like he was worried he'd just given me false hope. But he plastered a reassuring look onto his face quickly and rose to his feet. "Come on, I'll see if I can't talk the flight master into givin' ya free ride."

As we walked to the griffon post, I asked him about gutterspeak and he filled me in on the war between the Alliance and the Horde. He said that his translation spell must translate everything and let me respond in whatever language I need to, without me realizing it. I suppose it was well enough. Even if they are fighting, the more help I can get the better, so I might need to go to the Horde eventually.

I was kind of hurt that Fizz just sent me off, though. He waved to me as I got on the griffon and wished me all the luck I would need, but when I looked back, not even out of the city yet, he had already left, headed back into the routine that was his life. The routine that I'd interrupted.

I guess he forgave my debt.

 


	8. Stormwind

When I first arrived at Stormwind, it was miserable. The flight master guy was super busy with arrivals and departures—another reason they should just build some airplanes and get rid of those stupid griffons—and I nearly got put on one going out to somewhere called the Burning Steppes as I tried to get my bearings and wade through the masses and masses of people.

Eventually I made my way away from the griffons' area and into the main part of town. There were so many people. A lot of them rode on creatures I couldn't even dream up. Some were on dragons. Real, honest to God dragons.

I bumped into one when I was walking around a corner and I just about had a heart attack. However, it just looked at me and said to watch where I was going. The dragon said that. It  _spoke_.

I don't know if it was in a dragon language or not, though. I'm grateful for Fizz's translation spell, but it's kind of nerve-wracking wondering if I'm gonna say something in the wrong language. Like, what if an elf is talking in elvish and I hear them while I'm trying to talk to a draenei and I slip into a language they can't understand?

I tried to ask what I think was a dwarf—I'm basing that guess on Lord of the Rings—if there was somewhere I could go to recruit people for my cause, like an old school soap box or something, but I'd barely said, "Excuse me," when he whirled around and yelled that he wouldn't give me any gold and to leave him alone.

I ended up talking to one of the guards. He told me that for a fee I could post up a flyer on some board thing asking for help. I asked him if that was a good way to go about it and started to explain my dilemma, but I guess two guys got into a brawl in the market over wanting the same item and he had to leave to help break it up.

Even though that guard had seemed kind of like he wanted to answer my questions ASAP and have me move along, I figured I'd wait for him, since he was easily the nicest human I'd yet to encounter. Greg used to always complain that humans were always the jerks in fantasy worlds and I'm totally seeing the pattern here.

Makes me sad to be the same species as them. Maybe earth humans are different and less mean than Azeroth humans. Though...with all our wars and stuff, we're probably about the same.

Well, for a little while, I sat, watching the crowds fatten and thin, and the people barter—I think they were bartering anyway...I've never seen people actually do that except in movies and those are generally those comedies where someone doesn't know how to do it and gets scammed.

At some point, my guard headed off and disappeared into the city. Great, right?

I was beginning to feel seriously overwhelmed when I happened to look over near one of the buildings that everyone kept running in and out of. There were a few people standing near the entrance in threadbare clothes, begging all the people in shiny armor and pretty dresses for money and handouts. For a really, really short second, I thought about joining them, only to ask for help instead of money. But, they were totally being ignored...and ridiculed on occasion. I didn't want to get dismissed as a beggar.

I was just starting to dejectedly go back to my people watching when I noticed the area along side of that building. I think it said auction house on the sign above it, but I'm not gonna lie, I wasn't paying attention. It's not like it was a sign telling me where the draenei were.

Anyway, along the side was like the mount equivalent of a bike rack. All the people in the fancy stuff were leaving their noble steeds and mechanical birds—one guy even had a turtle—right next to the building.

As I watched, a guy on a dragon came shooting down from the sky, only to pull back in the last few seconds and make an graceful landing. His dragon just kind of sat down and folded its wings back as he hopped off and headed into the building.

And that gave me an idea.

I stood up and wandered near the dragon, trying to be nonchalant so that no one would think I was trying to steal it or anything. Can you really steal dragons? I mean, if they don't want you to? It seems like it'd be really hard, what with the claws and teeth and ability to fly away and the probably being smarter than humans. I always thought dragons would be—this is when I thought of dragons, which was rarely—basically giant lizards. Now I think they might be the ones running Azeroth. Especially after talking with Brath.

I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself.

So I wandered over to him and was wondering if I could speak to him in his dragon language. But then I remembered that I'd been speaking in the human one and wondered if the dragon would understand me or not.

Well, I was kind of looking him over and then looking away and wondering if I could somehow focus enough and get myself to speak in dragon when I suddenly felt my hair fluttering and a hot wind against the side of my face.

I turned and came face to face with that dragon.

And made my trademark squeak.

So, I'm gonna say that dragons are definitely predators. Because the way he was looking me over, like I might be a tasty little snack, or something he might want to chase through the streets, was definitely the way a cat watches a mouse. I half expected him to bring his clawed feet down on me and then peer under them to make sure I was still moving and that the game was still on. You know, the way cats do with flies.

It seemed pleased by my fear.

"You wish to ask for a ride, little creature?"

 _It_  was a  _him_. And his voice was gorgeous.

I didn't trust him for one second. I think I whispered a no, but I could be wrong. Maybe it was just the terrified expression on my face that made that amused light dance in his eyes. I think he smiled, but with all those teeth, it was kind of hard to tell. It didn't seem like that other dragon had been nearly as scary.

I was having definite second thoughts on asking for his help.

I mean, it was just something about him that seemed cruel. I keep trying to tell myself that I need to be more open to other sentient species and I think I'm slowly getting better. Anyway, as I looked over the sharp toothed, sharp clawed, lithe, sleek black creature in front of me, I was torn between giving him a chance or just running screaming. His black scales even seemed to gleam menacingly in the light, if that's possible.

But then I thought about Fizz and how his red eyes had scared me so much at first. I just wasn't used to dealing with dragons, like I hadn't been with goblins.

"No need to be shy..." his voice called me out of my thoughts. If he'd been a human man, I could definitely see him having women throw themselves at him. If not for the fact that I had a pitifully vague schedule to keep—aka the fact that I needed to save my world before everyone was dead—and you know, the whole he's a giant, winged lizard thing, I'd have probably talked to him just to hear his voice.

"I don't want a ride," I whispered.

However, even as I steeled myself to ask him about draenei, his humor abruptly vanished and he sniffed me. First my hair then my shoulder then my stomach then my knees, as though making sure I smelled the same all around. It was really awkward.

Then he inspected me with a critical eye. "What in creation  _are_  you?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Apologetic is not the answer I was seeking," the dragon murmured, tilting his head as he walked a few paces forward so that he could peer around my sides as though I might be growing wings myself or something. "You look human enough, yet...you are clearly not."

"I am so human," I hissed. I glanced around to see if anyone was staring. Everyone seemed too busy with their lives to notice some new girl chatting it up with a dragon. Maybe this sort of thing passed for normal.

When I looked back at the dragon, he did not seem convinced. "I'm from another world. I came here looking for help against the Burning Legion." The dragon sat back on its haunches, watching me with a half interested look. "The goblins said I should look for draen...something—"

"Draenei, most likely."

I nodded. "Yeah. But I don't know what those are."

"And so you plan to go up to every creature you are unfamiliar with and hope that they are a draenei?"

I didn't like how condescending he was being. "No...I just thought maybe..." I was so not going to tell him that I thought maybe dragons would be less judgmental than humans.

He looked so amused. Why do I seem to be the butt of everyone's jokes around here?

However, before I could apologize for bothering him and reconsider hanging out with the beggars—I mean, if those hero guys heard that I wasn't after their money, maybe they'd give me a chance, right?—the dragon extended one of its wings around me and drew me in closer. As I got closer, I could see spots of what looked like dried blood on a few of his teeth. Definitely a predator. And I was pretty sure I was a type of prey.

I did not like having my personal space invaded by a man-eating lizard.

"There is a boat you can take, across the ocean, to where the draenei live." I perked up. "But it takes weeks and weeks." The dragon looked toward the ground, an almost wistful look on its scaly face. "From what I remember of the Legion's attempts to take Azeroth, you do not have that kind of time."

I felt myself panicking. "There has to be a faster way to them—"

"There is," the dragon batted its eyes at me and I just knew that he was playing me. Worse, whatever he was after, he was making sure that I knew. "I have a bit of a dilemma." I frowned and his wing seemed to close around me a bit tighter. "Do you see these reins?" He tilted his head to the side so that I could see that he was hitched up, similar to a horse, without the bit in his mouth. When I nodded, he looked back at me. "I am being held prisoner...a slave, if you will, to a very cruel man."

I glanced around, as though expecting to see the man who'd arrived on the dragon to be heading toward us. He was still off doing whatever.

"These reins are enchanted," he almost nuzzled me but seemed to think better of it. Like whatever his problem, he wasn't desperate enough to get all cuddly. "Ownership is based on whoever claims the reins. However, the restraints of who can use them are based in magic, which, I couldn't help but notice, you...smell as though you are somewhat immune to." I assume he was trying to smile friendly like. I still didn't see what this had to do with me. The drake's smile vanished when I didn't make whatever connections he was going for. "I will fly you to your precious draenei. In return, you will free me."

I glanced around the street for a moment. "What about the other dragons?"

The one I was talking to seemed to be growing impatient. "Let's not start a crusade, hmm? Save me and the pieces will fall into place, I'm sure." He glanced toward the building his captor had gone into again. This time he edged back a step, his sharp claws clacking against the cobblestone beneath us. "Besides, you've a world to save, yes? Surely you can wait to right the wrongs of this one until after your task is accomplished."

I glanced around one last time. Fizz had said that I needed the draenei. And it didn't seem right that a dragon would be kept against his will. Though...that cruel look in his eyes that he was trying so desperately to hide made me think that maybe he wasn't a slave. Maybe he was being punished for something. But then...all the dragons I'd seen were people's mounts. None of them were free.

And I  _did_  have a world to save.

"You take me to the draenei and I'll take your reins off. But not before that," I spoke quickly. I wanted to make sure he wouldn't just fly me home for dinner. If I wanted to get anything done, I was going to have to rely on the kindness of others. But that didn't mean I needed to throw faith blindly to them.

He gave me an innocent look, as though he weren't the one who needed to be worried over. "I do hope  _you_  will honor our arrangement."

I nodded. "What do I do?"

"Climb on."


	9. Pit Stop

So, let me start by saying that it's a really bad idea to hop on a dragon when your legs still hurt from straddling a griffon. Because, you know, dragons are a bit bigger and that just stretches your already pain-riddled muscles more and leads to some god-awful cramps like you wouldn't believe. And that lion fur is actually kind of cushy, versus a bunch of hard scales. The saddle thing didn't help much at all.

That said, I don't think we got very far before the dragon had to land and let me try to get my muscles to quit seizing. As I hopped around, chanting 'ow' and massaging my thighs, Mr. Dragon just hung back, watching me like he was wondering if he'd made a mistake agreeing to help me.

It's a good thing that thought didn't occur to me at the time, though, because I probably would have had a panic attack at the thought of being stranded in the middle of nowhere—he'd landed in some rocky, mountainy patch near a really unfriendly looking beach.

Before this place, Azeroth had seemed kinda bright and cheerful, minus the whole demon attack. Though...even those guys were kinda colorful, when I think about it. Lots of flaming green.

Well, I was finally getting to the point where, if I kept walking, my legs didn't hurt too bad, but they felt worse if I stood still—when I wasn't moving it was like they were back in the position they'd stretched out in while I was sitting—when I looked up and realized that my dragon was gone.

I didn't really have time to register that I'd been left to die in some unknown, harsh place before I heard the dragon's voice drift down to me. "Calm your nerves, I am committed to your aid."

I turned, expecting to see him flying lazily over head or maybe crawling over the rocky outcrops nearby—probably creepily—but instead, what I saw made my jaw drop. There was no dragon. Instead, he was a man. A human man.

His hair was long and dark and his skin had a nice tan to it. And he was in a long black dress. Wait. It was probably a robe. I mean, I'd seen a bunch of guys in that sort of stuff and Fizz was always in this sort of thing. It's probably like monks or medieval times or something. Guys used to wear robes then, right?

As I stared at him dumbly, he simply arched an eyebrow. He cast a slow glance over his shoulder as though to assure himself that it was him I was staring at. "Find you a problem?"

"You're not a dragon anymore."

"Hardly," he snorted. "I am always a dragon."

"Then why do you look like a person?" I think I offended him by implying that dragons weren't people. "I mean, where did your wings go?" I hobbled over to him and waved my hand behind his back, like maybe they were just invisible or something.

"You truly have difficulty grasping the concepts behind magic, don't you?" Even as I grumbled he should explain it to me, he held his hand out and dropped a few scraggly looking plants into my hands. "Eat these. They should remedy your pains."

At first, I was totally ready to argue the whole randomly found plant life as a meal thing, but he gave me this withering look and I ended up munching quietly on a life with a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

They weren't bad. I mean, I wouldn't go out of my way to eat them again, but they were okay. Kinda like spinach. That made me feel better, that I could put a name to the flavor, even if it was a sorta match at best.

And it did make my legs feel better. Rather quickly, too.

The dragon sat down on a rock nearby and motioned for me to join him. I kind of didn't want to. Partially because I didn't want to sit down and have my legs spasm again and kind of because the power of this truce was so obviously in his favor.

"Come, I will not bite."

Ha ha. I've learned that dragon humor is not something that I enjoy much.

Anyway, he seemed like he was trying to be friendlier when I finally did sit down, on the far edge of the rock from him. He told me his name was Brathrion and seemed kind of disappointed when I told him my name was Amy.

I guess that's not an uncommon name here and he was hoping for something exotic. We agreed that it was odd that two entirely different worlds would share naming conventions. I stumbled over his name a couple times, forgetting that second r, before he finally cursed 'my clumsy tongue' and told me to call him Brath.

I do like how mono-syllabic all the names are of the people I meet. It makes it easy for me to remember them. Well, I suppose Brath is just a nick name and maybe Fizz was, too. But still.

Remembering Fizz kind of got me down, since I'd probably never see him again and he'd been nice.

Now, I'm not one of those creepy people who says hi to someone and then forms some weird stalker bond. It's just he was...the first person to help me here, you know? And I'd like to think we were friends.

Anyway, Brath asked if I was thinking about home and we started talking about my world. I told him about cars and computers and celebrities. He seemed really amused that my culture was so heavily enamored with a bunch of people most of us would never meet. I told him about Greg and how he was more practical, I supposed, though I hadn't always thought that. I mean, I used to think I was much more grounded in reality than someone who would talk through his computer to a bunch of strangers across the country about killing dragons.

I bit my lip after I said that and glanced over at Brath, half expecting him to be offended. He simply shrugged, though.

"Some dragons are corrupt and need slaying."

"Well, what about you?" I felt like I'd taken enough of the spotlight. And I didn't want to say something that actually might piss him off. "Do you have any family? Are they all forced to be people's mounts?"

He seemed amused by the second question, though he simply shook his head. "If anyone tried to make my father into a mount, they would not live long enough to regret it." When I asked if his dad was a really big dragon, he just cackled. "The biggest."

I couldn't help but feel like he was talking down to me when he said it. "So he's really strong?"

"Mm-hm."

"Then why didn't he stop them from making you into a slave?"

Brath's smile slipped for a moment. "We dragons are born in rather large clutches. I doubt he knows where all of his offspring are." His smile returned with a sly edge. "And currently, he has busied himself with remaking the world."

"All by himself?"

"Oh, he has assistance from a few...organizations." He paused to inspect my expression, his grin widening. "And he's doing quite well, if I might say."

I watched him for a moment. "Do you think he'd help my world, too?"

Brath tilted his head slowly as he stared at me, with this expression I couldn't read. Like, either he thought it was the dumbest question ever, or he thought it was funny, or...something. I couldn't help but feel that I'd overstepped some boundary.

However, he just shrugged. "Should you ever find yourself graced with his presence, feel free to ask."

He seemed a bit too entertained when I said I would. Maybe as a human, I shouldn't go asking dragons for favors? Especially if the dragon slave trade is run by humans...though, Brath could tell that I wasn't the same as them from a simple sniff, so maybe his dad would, too?

For a second, I thought about telling the dragons that they should just move to my world, but that seemed like a really bad idea, really fast. My world doesn't need something higher on the food chain than we are. ...or do dragons actually eat people?

"When you are ready, we'll head off," Brath interrupted my thoughts, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. He paused and looked down at me from the corner of his eye and I could see that his pupil was slit like a cat's. "Once we are over the ocean, there will be nowhere to land for almost a day, so please see to it that you will be able to ride as long."

I blinked. "It's that quick to get across the ocean?"

"It will take us four days, flying." He paused. "And then another four or so flying north to your draenei."

I had to say that still seemed a bit long. I wonder how long it would take a dragon to fly around my world, though. They're not as fast as planes, because I'd totally fly off if that were the case.

He merely gave me an arrogant, mischievous grin. "I am easily one of the fastest drakes of my clutch, so you are most welcome for the fact that our trip will take less than two weeks."

I swear that I blinked and then he was a dragon again. I excused myself to empty my bladder—I doubt he'd have wanted me peeing on him during the flight and have a feeling that's what he wanted me to take care of before we left—and then we were off, soaring through the clouds.

I know I have a world to save, but I have to say, that flying is really fun, when it's not some stupid bird thing squawking at you every time you shift your legs.


	10. A Grim Realization

So...heads up to any ladies out there. If you ever get a chance to ride a dragon, make sure your hair is tied up or braided or something, because holy crap. I didn't think I'd ever get my hair under control again. When I was little, I wanted to be Rapunzel and so, at the age of five, I made a vow to never cut my hair. While that didn't last super long, mainly since my mom sat me down and explained the importance of at least getting trims, I have always kept my hair about waist-length.

That's, what? Something like two feet of hair whipping around behind me at like thirty or whatever miles per hour? For seventeen hours straight? Yeah, I timed that flight. I didn't have a lot else to do. I mean, Brath may know how to talk into the wind, but I don't. Just trying left me hacking and coughing and Brath laughing at me.

He talked a bit, off and on. I think it was intended to be to himself though, because when I did manage to make a comment about something he said about waiting for a dead wing—is that like a leg cramp?—he nearly fell out of the sky. Well, maybe not. But he stopped mid flap and glanced back at me all startled like. We dropped a few terrifying yards through the air before he caught himself.

After that, he didn't say anything.

So I'm thinking that was Fizz's spell letting me understand something I probably shouldn't have. Like a secret dragon language or something. I wish I'd tried harder to understand what he was saying.

Anyway, I really enjoyed flying, until we landed and I found out that my hair looked like it might be permanently windswept. I was all sorts of upset and Brath was annoyed with me. I mean, I wasn't going out of my way to complain or say I didn't appreciate his help or anything, but I was rather frantically clawing at the tangles in my hair. Methodically. I mean, I started at the bottom and wished to God or whatever I was supposed to wish to in Azeroth that I had a brush.

Just as I remembered that I hadn't ever bothered to look into the pack Fizz had given me and flipped it open, Brath decided to be extra helpful.

Apparently dragons can turn just parts of themselves dragon when they're in human form. Because one minute I'm unclasping the top of the satchel, feeling my matted, unloved hair against the back of my neck, the next my head feels incredibly light.

I was in shock for a minute, right? Because I knew what had happened, but I wanted very much so to reject that reality. After what felt like forever, I turned around in time to watch Brath tossing my long, tangled locks of hair into the ocean—when he said 'place to land', he didn't mention it would be a tiny little dot of an island that made that unfriendly beach look like the Bahamas. I mean, if a decent sized wave came by, we'd both get washed off the stupid rock. And I'm not talking west coast waves. I'm talking decent for an east coast wave. That's like, nothing.

Grateful, grateful. He's helping me...

I'm still mad at him, though. I mean, he used his dragon clawed hand to cut my hair quickly, but it's not even at all and I guess it's kind of cute in a raggy sort of way, but I don't do raggy.

I know there are thousands of more important things to worry about, but...I loved my hair. It's like all the things that make me the me from my world are slowly being chipped away. By the time I get back to my world, I won't belong to it anymore.

Anyway, he muttered something about my hair not being a problem anymore as I ran to the edge of the rock and considered throwing myself into the ocean after it, even though I knew that was a dumb idea. I mean, it was cut off, so what was I gonna do, glue it back?

I didn't even have glue. I didn't have anything except for goggles and Fizz's goodbye package.

Which again reminded me I had yet to look into it. Brath dismissed himself to go catch dinner and as much as I didn't want to know what poor animal he might be maiming for a meal, I figured that if anything lived on our rock, we would have seen it by now, so it probably wasn't something fluffy or adorable. And being in the middle of the ocean, that meant he was going for fish, right? I admit I was curious to see if he was gonna go diving at the water like a pelican, but again, I didn't want to see something like a whale get torn to pieces.

So instead, I curled up near the central, raised part of the 'island' and went through the pack. There were five staling muffins along with five water pouches. The lids were screwed on really tight and I ended up wasting half of one because when I finally managed to uncap it, the water erupted out because I'd had to squeeze it so hard just to turn the thing.

I tried not to drink too much, since I didn't want to go through my resources too fast. I mean, we had seven days to go on our flight. I held off on the muffin to see if Brath would remember to hunt for two. And to, you know, make sure there would be a way to cook anything he might bring back.

Well, at the bottom of the pack was a note and a pristine, thick book.

_Hey kid,_

_I just wanted to give you a few pointers, since I'm not really the type to travel. People may not believe that you're from another world right away, but show them those goggles of yours. I ain't seen nothing like them, so I bet that'll help show that you have other-worldly technology. And if they're still doubtful, have them try to cast a spell on you. That sort of magic resistance is beyond anything I've ever seen in Azeroth. Or, hey, mention my translation spell._

_It dawned on me that you probably don't know much about the species here, so I've drawn you a sketch of a draenei. Pretty much think hooves, horns, tails, and blue skin. Real tall._

_I also included some food and a few gold, to help you find a place to stay. You may need to find a job or something if you're stuck in Stormwind for more than a week, though._

_Anyway, best of luck,_

_Fizz Icesprog_

_P.S. Look, I know you're confused on the 'good' and 'bad' races here, so I thought I'd add a bit about what to avoid. You'll find a book in here, too. It's a journal detailing the different species of Azeroth that I came across when I was in Rachet a few years back...you don't need the details, I suppose._

_Anyway, look under the entries for naga, val'kyr, quilboar, and centaur. I think those are the main ones. You probably won't even see any of those. Oh, be careful around dragons, too. While some of the members of some of the flights are friendly to people, it's probably better to just avoid them. And whatever you do, steer clear of the black dragon flight. They're real bad news. Just read the entry on dragons and you'll see what to watch out for._

_Good luck, kid._

I stared down at the page, tilting my head to the side slowly. Black dragon flight? Did that mean the actual color of the dragon or was it like a gang name? Maybe they just had tattoos that indicated their affiliations?

Of course, that was when Brath got back.

As I watched his sleek black body land with a really big fish—like bigger than me, big—clutched in his claws, I was tempted to ask him what flight he was from.

Then it hit me.

That's why he asked for my help. Because I didn't realize he was a bad guy. Because I was so busy telling myself I was making unfair assumptions that I forced myself to trust him, ignoring my instincts that told me to run away.

I must have been wearing my incredulity on my sleeve, because even as he shifted to his human form, he gave me a puzzled look. Then he frowned and glanced at the paper. I didn't bother to hide it from him. Like I said, dragons are smarter than humans.

"You're from the black dragon flight."

He eyed the paper with new interest, like he thought it was about him specifically. "A correct assumption."

"And you guys aren't friendly, are you?"

Brath seemed to consider how to answer for a moment before trotting over to me. However, he paused to turn his back in my direction, and breath fire at the fish he'd set down. As the flames died down and I realized that that fish was probably beyond well done, he looked back at me and sat down, letting his meal cool off. "No, we are not 'friendly'."

"So, what?" I shook my head. "Are you trying to overthrow the government or...?"

"You are such an adorable little creature," he smiled at me and plucked the note from my hands. I didn't like that. Aside from the obvious condescension, he was checking how much I knew. So that he'd know how much he needed to tell me. Sure enough, he reached for the pack to read the book next. I gripped the bag to my chest.

"Just answer my question."

His amusement diminished as he eyed me.

He was going to get rid of me...kill me. I could see it in his eyes. He was debating it. Even as his expression grew calm and collected, like a psychopath caught in the act of killing someone deciding that another body to the pile wouldn't do any harm, I uttered possibly the  _most_  despicable thing I have ever said.

"I don't care what kind of monster you are. Get me to the draenei and I'll take your reins off, like we agreed. You're this world's problem, not mine."

What else could I have said? Kill me now? For all I know, I'm my world's last hope. Melodramatic, I know. And anyway, it's not like I can't just take it back when we get to the draenei. Run up to them and tell them I'm being attacked or something.

I can rationalize what I said all I want, but the really despicable thing is, when I said that, I meant it.

I really am losing myself.

 


	11. Frenemies, of a Sort

The second day flying, we hit a storm. Originally Brath tried to fly up above the clouds, but there was lightning and things that looked like things throwing lightning and in the end I guess he gave up trying to get above all of the chaos, because eventually he dipped back down into the rain. He seemed almost desperate to get away from the storm and he pushed himself, trying to fly straight through it, so we ended up in the air for almost two days straight.

I managed to get my goggles into my pack when it had first started raining and then lean over it a bit, but I'm pretty sure its wires are fried.

I mean, I was soaked through to the bone, so I doubt I was much of a deterrent for the rain. Which probably means that book is useless, too.

If karma is real, I'm in for a huge pay day any time now.

Or maybe this is punishment for working with Brath? He's more friendly, like genuinely friendly now, since my little declaration. It's like he thinks I'm as horrible as he is, so now we can be friends.

And I guess the prospect of freedom being a few short days away for him has helped give him energy to keep going.

The third night though, we landed, even though the tempest was still going. It was this charred out little island, covered with broken buildings and trash. The buildings sort of reminded me of Booty Bay, except they were made of metal. As we flew close to the ground, there were broken pieces of glass and metal getting whipped up by the winds and used as shrapnel. It was crazy.

Brath ended up landing near this giant mountain that I couldn't make out through the rain until we were pretty much right in front of it. There were some caves that he ran into with what looked like mining car tracks going through them. A few support posts and old, abandoned lanterns proved that it was a mining shaft, or whatever those are called.

So, I'd been used to riding on his back while he was flying, but it was really different when he was running along on all fours, his wings tucked around me. I think I would have been thrown off, if not for those wings.

When he finally stopped, he let me slide off and then he continued down the tunnel a few more paces and shook the layer of water on him off like a dog might. It was kind of cute and for a split second I could almost forget that he was a psychopath.

I tried to rub the water off of myself, but...well that wasn't happening. I didn't look into my pack, since I didn't want to find a mushy layer of muffin coating my other things. At least the water would be okay, I hoped.

Even as I tried to squeeze some of the water out of my hair—I could have just wrung it out if he hadn't cut it—he trotted over to me and sat down, still in his dragon form. He scraped his claws at the ground twice and then shook his head, his eyes narrowing.

"The ground is too tainted with oils to light a fire."

It took me a moment to realize the fire probably would have been for my benefit. I was too grumpy from being soaked and miserable to be very polite and I just kind of shrugged. I wanted to take my clothes off and let them dry, but I wasn't about to strip down in front of Brath. I don't care if he was a dragon, he could look like a human, too, and I didn't want him getting any weird ideas.

Brath regarded me for a moment and then darted around in a few quick circles, his claws kneading the ground, before finally settling down, curling his tail and neck toward one another. Just as I started looking around, wondering if I could find a sort of soft rock, he cleared his throat and I looked back to see he had one of his wings lifted in the air, an offer for me to curl up with him.

When I just frowned, he lifted his head. "I would keep that frail body of yours from succumbing to illness, if I can. I am no healer and should you succumb to something, this will have proven a great waste of my time."

It took a moment of internal struggle before I finally decided that I was too tired to care where I slept. So I wandered over and slumped against his scaly side. He settled his wing down over me and it was like having a warm leathery blanket. I have to say, I was a bit confused about how warm he was when he was supposed to be a reptile or something, but I decided that I really didn't care about dragon details as I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up, I was super stiff. And I had scale imprints on one side of my face and along my arm—which was getting pretty tanned, by the way, with all the sun exposure and no sunscreen. My clothes had sort of dried and were also super stiff, from all the dirt and grime being caked into the fabric.

I'd worn what I thought would be sturdy leather boots when I'd decided to run through the portal, but I guess they were more for show than anything else, because they were starting to crack under the constant beating of the elements. Or maybe they're just not really leather. I wouldn't know.

Anyway, if Bethany could have seen me now, I doubt she would have recognized me, all scarred and dirty.

Well, I tried to slip out from under Brath's wing without waking him up, but I guess dragon wings are really sensitive or something, because the second I put my hands against it to push, suddenly it just flapped up away from me.

Brath laughed at me for jumping at his sudden movement. I tried to ignore him and stretch out. I really missed Booty Bay. At least there, I'd had a warm bed, even if it was someone else's.

It turned out that we were behind schedule. I guess even dragons show some concern for safety during thunderstorms, because he'd apparently slowed down his pace. And he was frustrated that this island—Kezan, I think he called it—was as far as we'd gotten.

However, just as I'd wandered toward the exit, seeing as it had stopped raining, to see if I could find some type of pond or stream or something nearby to at least wash my face, he merely trotted up and turned sharply so that I almost bumped into him. My pack dangled from his mouth and he held his head pointed toward me.

"There's another island, not a twenty minute flight from here," he spoke quickly, his teeth still clenched around my pack's strap. I took it from him and swung it over my shoulder, cringing as I heard a faint slosh inside of it and praying that that noise had been from the water skins. "This island is too entrenched with oils and waste to house food, but we'll be able to find something to eat at the next island."

That was all I needed to abandon my search and hop into the saddle. Recalling his human form, I have to wonder where his saddle goes when he transforms. And his reins, at that.

When we landed, I was kind of surprised that he almost dropped me into a small pond on the island, though he seemed to think better of it and just landed next to it. When I slid off, he looked me over once, then flicked his tail toward the pond. "Take a bath. You reek."

That said, he turned and trotted off into the forest.

I had to say, I was kind of confused about why he'd been avoiding his human form, since he seemed to not really care which one he took, but I think maybe he was trying to appear less threatening when he'd walked around as a human, before. Maybe it had been so that I'd feel like I could relate to a bipedal creature more easily and would go along with his little scheme. Now that there was no need, he seemed comfortable in his own, reptilian skin.

Even so, I waited a good five minutes before I was sure I couldn't see him in the trees or in the air before I stripped down and jumped in. Needless to say, much scrubbing was in order and I'm kind of amazed that the water wasn't permanently stained from all the dirt that I managed to wash out of my hair and off my skin. And once I wasn't covered in a layer of grime, I could see that my leg, where that felhunter had hurt it, was scarred pretty bad. No more shorts for me…

I considered washing my clothes, but then I didn't want to be stuck in wet cloth while I rode a dragon for a few hours again. Plus there were a few spots, like one of my knees, where it looked like the dirt might be all that was keeping it together. I really didn't need my one outfit unraveling on me.

So instead, I just shook them out as best I could, to get rid of the more decorative grossness. And then took another bath to get that dirt off me.

Afterwards, I opened my bag to inventory my damage. The muffins were indeed mush. And the turbulence of the ride had made sure to smear them on everything. I dropped the water skins in the pond to wash off the little bits of food, half wishing that I'd at least tried one before they were gone.

Then, I emptied out the bag—I was happy to learn that the book seemed water proof, by the way—and went about scraping out all the muffin remnants with a palm-sized leaf and some of the water. Once my belongings were as food free as they were gonna get, I refilled the empty skins with water from a little stream that led into the pond and set about inspecting my goggles.

I tried to turn them on, but nothing happened. Not even a sharp zap of electricity. They were long dead. Even so, I repacked them, figuring that what Fizz had said about them proving my other-worldliness would be relevant even broken.

I read up a bit on the different species in that journal and I have to say, Azeroth is just one giant hodge-podge of sentient species. I thought the cow people—tauren, I guess?—were pretty cool. Apparently they're really tough warriors, with honor, so I got to thinking maybe, if I found some, I could appeal to their better nature to get some help.

I mean, why not, right? What's the worst they could do? Tell me to go away? Kill me? At least I'd die trying.

That thought kind of depressed me. How lame would it be for me to spend all this time going through all this crap, just to die before I get anything done? That's the sort of regret that leaves people haunting places and there's no way I'm letting myself haunt anywhere outside of Earth.

That said, I started to wander near the edge of the woods—it was a pretty cool jungle type place, by the way, though that made me worry about those weird diseases that bugs carry in the jungles back home—to see if I could find Brath. Resting was not a luxury I wanted to afford myself, if I could help it.

In the end, I called his name out a few times and he came trotting back from wherever he'd been, a roasted something gripped in his jaws.

I have to say that I wish he wouldn't carry the food he catches in his mouth. I mean, I know that's probably the most convenient for him, but it gets his spit all over it and…dragon spit is still spit. It kind of grossed me out, but I just settled for peeling the skin off my meat.

"Take your time; it will not flee from you," Brath commented, looking amused.

So, I hadn't eaten in like two and a half days at that point. And it wasn't until I was chowing down on the poor animal that I realized how hungry I was. So I was sort of scarfing down the food when he said that.

I would have loved to have some sort of fruit, but I wasn't about to go asking my evil dragon ride for any. Besides, what if Brath did offer to find me something? Then we'd have been there even longer while he looked and then who's to say it wouldn't be poisonous to someone from outside of Azeroth?

When I was done, he ate what was left in two bites. Didn't even chew.

Even as he swallowed whatever it had been, my earlier thoughts on sentient creatures came rushing back and I felt myself blanching. "That…wasn't…"

Brath cocked his head, eyeing me curiously. After a moment, he trotted out to the sunny rocks next to the pond and settled down, seeming to enjoy basking in the warm rays. Maybe he was a giant lizard after all.

"Care you to finish your question?"

"That wasn't a person, was it?" When he turned his head to the side so that he could watch me with an unreadable expression, I tried to explain myself without making myself sound completely ridiculous. "Well, there are a lot of…types of creatures who can think and I was wondering—"

"If you'd just dined one someone you could have conversed with?" Brath swished his tail back and forth slowly. "As a human, no." When I frowned, he shifted around so that he could face me. "There are creatures here, druids, mostly, who can speak with animals and plants—"

"Plants?" I echoed. I'd never considered that my salad might have had a mind of its own and that made me feel a bit sick. Even worse if you considered that each vegetable was probably its own person. Suddenly meat eating didn't seem nearly as cruel.

"Yes, plants. Druids harness the power of nature and as a result, they can speak with it, though it wouldn't be in the sense of you and I talking right now. It's…magical, I suppose." Brath seemed smug that he could use so simple an explanation, but I took it regardless. As though to see if I would squirm further, he tapped the ground beneath him with a claw. "The very earth has a voice. Shamans can hear it. I can hear it."

I started to ask if he was a shaman, but stopped myself. "Because you're a dragon."

"A black dragon," he clarified. "We were charged with guarding the earth, long, long ago."

I walked over and sat next to him. I wanted to ask when we would be leaving, but he seemed in no rush. "So…why are people so against you and your…flight?" When he nodded I felt like I'd accomplished something, even if it was just remembering a name. "Why are they so against you if you're a guardian?"

"The earth is in pain," Brath whispered and for a moment he looked lonely. "It cries out in such agony…when one finds a wounded animal in the woods, crying such, one does not think twice about releasing it from its misery. The mortals of this world are selfish and cruel." His face darkened. "They think only of their own lives and not the price they pay to walk upon this tainted soil." He rested his head against the stone abruptly, a comforting motion, though I couldn't tell if it was meant for himself or the earth beneath him. "An end must be brought about. When there is nothing left to abuse this frail world, it will at last be at peace."

So I know I called him a psychopath before, but this just brought it to a whole new level. Destroying the world so that the dirt would be happy? I mean, maybe if it really has a personality or something I could see defending it, but…destroying all life?

He could see that I was not in agreement with his ideology. "It is a good thing you are of an other world. After you find your aid, you will leave and be one less insect to crush."

"Yay me," I mumbled before I could stop myself. He simply let out a short laugh and closed his eyes. I drummed my fingers against my knee as I looked around. "So…you're saying everything around us has to go? Like the trees and everything?"

When I looked back at Brath, he had opened one eye and was watching me. "You wish to argue on this matter? It is pointless. They have lived in this world far longer than you have and they are much more knowledgeable on this subject."

"They?"

"No one you need to concern yourself with."

I paused. "But they say you have to kill everything?"

"They do," Brath murmured, lifting his head and eyeing me.

"Do they realize that includes themselves?"

Brath blinked at me several times, seeming to consider what I was saying as a novel idea. At length, he shook his head as though to chase away such thoughts. "I am sure my father will handle such matters."

"Oh, right. The big dragon," I mused.

"The biggest."

And for once, Brath didn't sound condescending when he said it. He lay his head back down, and closed his eyes again. "I've a mind to fly straight through to the mainland once we're in the air again, so take a few hours to rest. I'd probably break you if I have to catch you because you're too tired and slip off me in flight."


	12. Legendary

We made it to land in a little over thirty hours, rested in some place called Dustwallow Marsh, and then took back to the air. Even though Brath continued to be somewhat friendly, something about Dustwallow really bothered him, not that he would tell me what.

When we first came in sight of land, the angle made it look like we were heading south, but then, I realize that was probably just me being confused. Or maybe he'd gotten turned around a bit while flying over nothing but ocean.

Anyway, we came to shore near this wood that looked kind of burnt out and empty. I think it was the emptiness that bothered Brath, because he circled low once and then started cursing under this breath and flew back up.

I was kind of surprised, you know, because it seemed like a large empty place would be great for us, since I figured Brath was probably wanting to avoid largely populated areas, so that people wouldn't go, "Oh, it's a black dragon. Let's kill it."

When I tried to ask him about it as we were turning in for the night, he just nuzzled me innocently. I should have known something was up. I mean, why would he be all cuddly all of a sudden? And even if that hadn't tipped me off, his next question should have.

As I was curling up on a little mound of leaves I'd made for myself—I didn't want to sleep against Brath again, since it'd left me so cramped before—he abruptly sat next to me in human form, a simple smile on his lips.

"I don't suppose there'd be room in your world for a lone, little dragon, such as myself?" He hesitated for a moment before adding, "After we save it, of course."

I remember eyeing him and wondering what was going on. Had the tempest done something to his head? "Um…what?"

Even as I was about to ask what was with his sudden interest in leaving behind the world he'd been talking about guarding from life, he just smiled and patted my arm, sprawling out, still in human form, near me.

"No need to decide right now, hmm? Just…think about it. I could be quite useful, I think. I've dealt with my share of demons, after all. And, when all is said and done, I could live quite happily in some forest where your species never travels."

Something was definitely going on, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what. When I started to ask him if something had happened—I don't know when it would have—he just said he was growing fond of me. And then he offered to hold me while I slept, saying his shoulder would be softer than the ground, and I edged away from him. He seemed disappointed and I was up half the night wondering if I'd done something to lead this crazy dragon to believe that I had a thing for him.

I mean, he kind of struck me as a sociopath, right? Though, I guess it wouldn't really be the same thing, since he's a dragon…or maybe it would. I don't really know how dragon psychology would relate to its human counterpart. But my point is that supposedly if sociopaths actually get attached to something, they get kind of fixated. Yes, I may be basing this assumption off of this Lifetime movie my dad and I ended up watching—my mom had started and then walked away saying Lifetime movies are too 'worst-case-scenario-y', and my dad and I had come in to watch something with her as a family, and we just kind of…stuck around to make fun of it. Like, there were a few scenes that we got bored with the drama and started making our own dialogue for, which was really fun.

But anyway. The moral of the movie was that sociopaths are dangerous, especially if they think they love you. Because they get like super jealous or something. Honestly, I don't remember the whole plot of the movie, but for the next week, my dad would jokingly great me whenever he came home from work by asking if I'd stayed away from the local sociopaths. My dad's humor is…kind of strange.

I wonder if he's still alive.

Anyway, the last thing I needed was some dragon following me home wanting to be best buddies. I mean, if I were some genius, I could see manipulating him into helping saving my world, but if I did that as me, I wouldn't know how to get rid of him later.

I ended up drifting off and dreaming about getting married to some generic guy, only to have Brath the dragon storm in, eat my to-be-husband, and then fly off with me in his clutches into a blood red sunset. I suppose it was a nice change of pace from my typical nightmares.

In the morning, I was further surprised that Brath had breakfast waiting for me and had drawn a little map of the continent we were on in the dirt. When he was certain that I was awake enough to retain information, he tapped a little X.

"We are here…" He let his finger trail over the earth to a second X. "Your draenei are here." He paused, to make sure I was paying attention. His behavior was so odd, but then, I just figured maybe he was feeling giddy about being free soon or something. "If we flew straight there, we'd end up going over a Horde city and that would lead to a rather poor day for the both of us."

I munched on my breakfast, wondering what kind of animal it was. "Because they'd recognize you as a bad dragon?"

His eye twitched for a moment and he curled his hand into a fist, still looking at the dirt map. However, he abruptly tapped the spot where the Horde city was located. "There is that, I suppose. However, they will see you as a human from this world from a distance and shoot us down. We'd both be dead before we hit the earth."

I nodded. I didn't get why he was explaining this to me. I mean, I'm horrible with directions, so he could just tell me that we'd been flying straight north. Even if he went straight south, I'd probably believe him.

He drew a second line through the ground, arcing it slightly at the bottom so that it looked like something off an exponential growth chart. "I'm going to fly us west and then up, so as to avoid any unnecessary unpleasantness. Does this suit you?"

I stared at him blankly. Did it matter if it did? It wasn't like I could tell him to screw off and get my  _other_  dragon to take me a better route. "Sure, I guess."

He flashed a cheerful smile my way and then abruptly ran his fingers through his map until it looked like a whole lot of nothing. As he did that, I tilted my head slowly to the side. He didn't want anyone to find a map saying what direction we'd gone in.

"Are we being followed?"

His head snapped up toward me. "What?"

"Did that guy who was supposed to own you or whatever come after us?" That thought hadn't occurred to me until the words left my lips. Then my eyes widened. Crap. What if he was? I wouldn't be able to defend Brath from some magic wielding hero.

And then it dawned on me that if any of the heroes found out I'd helped a black dragon, they'd probably leave my world to rot, figuring it was an act of war or something. I was starting to go into panic mode, imagining all the horrific possibilities that might be about to be set in motion, when Brath patted my hand gently.

My gaze snapped toward him. "I…" he hesitated and glanced around. "There is a rumor that there is a rogue out and about, taking  _care_  of my flight." When I stared at him blankly, he frowned. "Killing us."

Oh. That might explain the sudden interest in moving to a new world.

"I hadn't put much stock in it," he shrugged, trying to force his actions to look casual. "But…I have reason to believe there might be more truth in it than I'd realized." I guess the relief showed on my face, because he furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head.

"Oh, sorry," I tried to wave off his confusion. "I'm just happy you don't have some weird thing for me…" When he still seemed confused, I felt super stupid…and relieved that he was just a manipulative jerk.

I mean, hello? He's a dragon. Why would he be interested in a human? He probably looks for things like wingspan and…scale color or whatever in a girlfriend. Now that I knew he wasn't going to stalk me and eat any boyfriends I might get to keep me from getting close to anyone besides him, I felt really dumb. And I wasn't about to tell him how I'd misread his actions, so that he could be a jerk about it. He definitely seemed like the kind who would rub it in my face.

I wasn't going to tell him, but I think he reads facial expression better than he understands verbal communication, because he abruptly got this sly grin and leaned toward me. "Were you hoping for a more…intimate reason?"

It was my turn for my eye to twitch. I hated that I needed his help. If I could have, I'd have walked off into the woods and ditched him, reins and all.

He shrugged, still grinning as he appraised me. "If you let me help you, you wouldn't need to remove my reins until we reached your world. That way, you could just tell people I'm your mount."

I tried not to read any double meanings into that, hoping that he wasn't trying to put any in there. However, the damage had been done and it was super awkward for the rest of our breakfast break.

We'd been in the air for a little over an hour, when it happened.

I was still trying to forget that screwing with my head might be Brath's new favorite pastime, when out of nowhere, something shot into Brath's wing. He let out a roar, which scared the crap out of me, and we dropped from the sky.

Weighing considerably more than me, as we fell, I totally came out of the saddle. However, one of my feet caught in its stirrup, making sure I plummeted as fast as my ride. When we got close to the ground, Brath managed to catch himself in the air, despite the pain in his wing, and he flapped back into control a few feet above the ground.

Unfortunately, I wasn't really on him anymore, so I just kept going. I suppose it's a lucky break—no pun intended—that my foot was caught in the stirrup, because it snapped me to a stop before I could become a pancake. It also snapped my bones.

Same leg that keeps getting hurt, by the way.

Well, I could hear Brath cursing as I finally fell free from the stirrup and thudded the last few feet into the ground, knocking the wind out of me. He landed beside me and I could see a fretful look on his scaly face. "Climb back on—hurry!"

Even as I tried to ignore the awkward numbness in my ankle and reach for him, a freakin' boomerang shot into his wing and he roared again, rearing back from me and then crouching low to the ground. As I tried to register what was happening, another dragon leapt over from somewhere behind me, its scales a brilliant red, and tackled Brath to the ground.

I could hear teeth snapping and claws digging into scales and dirt, but that scuffle lost out to my interest as I was jerked around to face the wielder of the weapon.

My eyes widened as I stared up at the human man who'd been such a jerk to me in Booty Bay. The one who had mocked that I didn't know where home was when I'd asked for help.

Even as I looked up at him, slack jawed, he stared back down at me with earnest surprise. Guess he didn't expect to see little old, gutter speaking me ever again. As it registered that he might be just about the worst human that I could have run into, I heard more voices crying out and tried to look past him.

However, before I could make out who else was joining our little tussle, he squatted down in front of me, and I felt something sharp pressing against my throat. "You'd better have a damn good reason for stealing that drake."

As I floundered and tried to think past the sharp pointing thing at my neck, the dragon fight came to us. They were rolling around, slamming each other into the ground or something, because one of their tails swiped us and sent me flying. The guy with the knife jumped out of the way and was back to me like nothing had happened.

However, even as he asked me again what had happened, I felt the world spinning. As I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering why I was suddenly seeing several of him, moving closer and further from one another like an accordion, he frowned and looked me over. He got this, 'oh shit' look on his face when he saw my arm and I followed his gaze to see a small cut on my bicep.

Even as I wondered why such a simple injury would matter—especially with my ankle being broken—I noticed a light green gleam on the dagger in his hand. I didn't really have time to register what that meant before my world was swallowed in darkness.


	13. A Better Pitch

When I woke up, I felt like crap. I mean, you'd think I'd be getting used to something hurting by now. Or being stiff or whatever. But this was just a grimy, sluggish, dull feeling. Like the world had shifted and was no longer made of air and earth, but sludge. Sludge that was hard to move in and hard to see through clearly.

It was night time when I came to, with a campfire dancing a few feet away from me, casting weird little shadows from the pebbles on the ground. I was laying on my side, with my face half in the dirt. When I tried to sit up, I found my hands wouldn't do what I told them to and it took me a forever to realize that they were tied behind my back.

 _That_  woke me up a lot faster. As I forced myself to blink past the bleh feeling—and happily realized that someone or thing had healed my ankle—I heard voices. They quieted down though as I tried to sit up again, using an elbow as a prop, even though it hurt my other arm, pulling it further behind me. There was a shuffling and then someone grabbed my arm and jerked me up.

It hurt, but I suppose it was faster than what I was trying. Not that I was grateful. When I looked to see who was being so ruff, it was that jerk who'd had the dagger. I'm no weapons or fighting expert, but I'm pretty sure it was poisoned. He  _poisoned_  me. I guess telling me my friends and family were dead wasn't enough for this guy.

I glared at him as he returned the sentiment.

"Now that you're awake, you're going to answer my questions." His daggers were at his sides, but I could see that he was keeping one of his hands on one, like I was some super dangerous outlaw who one needed to execute extra caution around.

I would have laughed if I wasn't sort of terrified that he was going to kill me.

"Where's…" My tongue felt like it was swollen or something and it made it harder to speak, which I suppose was good, because I probably would have been in a lot more trouble if I'd called Brath by name. Since, you know, it might look like I was fraternizing with the bad dragons.

My interrogator just frowned, though his gaze slid pointedly to one side and as my muddled brain managed to follow it, I saw a black lump in the night. When I squinted, I could see that ropes bound Brath to the ground and some were wrapped around his nose, keeping his jaws clamped shut. Overall, he looked okay, but then, the light was pretty poor, so I couldn't be sure.

I had to wonder why he didn't just switch to his human form and slip out of his restraints, but maybe the ropes were magical or something. Anyway, he was watching me with a rather pissed off look. No. Not me. My captors.

 _Our_  captors.

"I thought you healed her…" I heard a voice say from somewhere nearby.

Even as a different, resentful voice replied that he had and that he didn't know why I still seemed to be under the 'effects', Mr. Asshole—like I said before, I don't like to curse, but this guy…there is no better description—grabbed my chin and forced me to meet his gaze.

"Why did you steal that drake?"

"I didn't steal anything," I said before I could really think.

The jerk's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, really?" I could see he was about to say something about someone saying their dragon was missing or something, but I was not going to let him win. Not this time.

"To steal something means someone else owned it. If something's owned, that makes it a possession. If you're trying to say that a sentient creature was owned by another, that makes them a slave and if you're in the business of helping others keep slaves, you're a slave trader which makes you scum." I paused before adding, "And I don't cooperate with scum."

His jaw dropped and I have to say that I felt pretty darn proud of myself.

He recovered from what I'd said way too fast, though. In a second, his eyes were steely. "You don't cooperate with scum, yet you ride off with a black dragon?"

"Well," I had to try really hard not to call him any names, "it's not like anyone else was offering to help me."

"Help you?" A rather melodious voice asked and my interrogator eased his grip on my jaw as he replied for me, though I was at least able to turn my head a bit to see that it was that red dragon that had attacked Brath. Why do all dragons seem to have nice voices? I wonder if they sing well.

…

I know Brath is the bad guy, but I couldn't bring myself to like this other drake. I don't like people who hurt my friends. Even manipulative, evil friends. That was when I realized that, stupid as it was, I really did consider Brath as someone important to me.

Maybe I am one of those weird clingy people, after all.

Anyway, the guy was quick to try to dismiss what I'd said when he talked to his(?) dragon. "Her village was attacked by the demons and she came looking for help two weeks after the fact."

"Not my village—" I started, but he gave me this harsh look, like he wouldn't mind sinking my body in a river, if it came down to that. Why do I meet all the psychopaths?

This world makes that creep in algebra look like a kitten.

The dragon, however, seemed more interested than his human and trotted around so that I could see him more easily. He was a bit bigger than Brath. I couldn't help but think that, no matter his size, if it had been a fair fight, Brath would have wiped the floor with him.

The dragon was close enough that if my hands were untied, I could have reached out and touched him. He had a gentler look about him than Brath and he leaned forward and sniffed me carefully, as though he'd been wondering about me for a while. "You are not of this world, are you?"

Mr. Jerk's eyes widened and he looked ready to argue, but I spoke before he could. "I'm not." The drake looked me over another moment before nodding.

"You look human enough, so it is easy for those less attuned with magic to assume you are."

"I  _am_  human," I protested, even as the jerk's hand fell away from my jaw. It wasn't like he thought I'd bite or anything, he was just watching me with this really confused look. I ignored him. As much as I didn't want to like this dragon, I could feel myself getting hopeful. "My name is Amy Ford and I'm a citizen of the United States of America." I tried to think of what Greg would say. "Three weeks ago, a portal opened in my city and I went through it looking for help in fighting the Burning Legion." I glared toward the jerk. "I know my  _city_  is probably gone by now…my whole country probably is." I looked back at the dragon. "But at the rate the demons were going, there should still be half of my world left." The dragon's mouth dipped into a frown and I felt panic knotting my gut. What if they wouldn't help? What if they cared more about a black drake than a world? "There were seven billion people in my world before they came. Even if there's only half of it left, that's still three and a half billion people who could be saved."

There was an eerie silence over the camp. For the first time I glanced toward the other voices and saw that the woman who had tried to heal me was there, as well as Mr. Responsible, the guy who'd asked me questions about the demons even though he hadn't wanted to. There was another human guy, too, but I couldn't remember if I'd seen him in Booty Bay or not. Seeing them was a painful reminder of my ineptitude in trying to recruit people before.

I looked back at the dragon. "My world doesn't have magic, so I don't know how it works, but if I could get here, there's gotta be a way back, right?"

When no one said anything, I felt like bursting into tears. But the fact that that dragon was even listening to me…I suddenly started talking in detail about how I'd gotten there. About the world between worlds, the infrared goggles, Fizz's translation spell, the email my brother had sent me. Everything was disjointed, but in the end, I looked them all over.

"If my brother could live a week after the demons swept through, there's got to be pockets of survivors everywhere. I know we can't get there in time to save everyone, but no one deserves to be written off as some lost cause."

I wanted to scream at them to say  _something_. Anything. Even a rejection. If they turned me down, then I could start bartering that they at least take me to the draenei.

But then… what could I offer them in return? Brath?

I felt grimy even thinking that, though, I supposed if the tables were turned, he wouldn't hesitate to sell me out.

Finally, the guy who I didn't recognize spoke up. He was thinner than the other guys and dressed in a robe. He looked sort of geeky, too—cute geeky—like he was used to staying indoors in dimly lit rooms more than traveling around. He reminded me of Greg and I instantly found myself liking him. "Why didn't you just ask for a portal to the Exodar?"

"A what?"


	14. How to Keep Your Dragon

So, I have to say for about five minutes I wanted to see Brath hung. Drawn and quartered. Forced to ride across a continent on a griffon. In human form, of course.

Maybe I could talk the dragons into eating the griffons….

Not my point. Anyway, I was really angry, but then what's-his-name—that scrawny guy told me his name like five times and I still can't remember it. It's not even a hard name, either. It's like Tom or Jeff or…something. Anyway, the rest of the humans were really quiet, like it was just dawning on them that they'd been complete jerks to me before and that less people might have died if they'd been patient enough to hear me out.

But this guy, who I really don't think was there before because he's actually nice—which makes me feel bad that I can't remember his name—is apparently a mage. Which is not a warlock. And mages get really mad when you call them warlocks. I guess consorting with demons is frowned upon in Azeroth as much as anywhere else, which makes me wonder why they have warlocks at all. Like, couldn't they just outlaw it?

Anway, mages can make portals. Which isn't as good as it sounds. Tom or Jeff or TJ made me a portal to the draenei's home and I was all excited, but I was kind of confused because it didn't have any statues around it. There was this awkward silence before I asked him if I was supposed to do anything special and he said to just walk through it.

So I did.

And then I turned around and looked back at him and asked if something was supposed to have happened. He must have cast like twenty portals. I couldn't go through any of them. Mr. Responsible went through one, just to make sure they worked. It did for  _him_.

I know I shouldn't be resentful because it's not their fault they can use portals and I can't, but…it's totally there whether I want it or not.

It took me a second as TJ was flipping through this book that hung from a leather rope on his belt before I remembered the whole Fizz spending two weeks trying to get me to be able to speak and having to cast that slow fall thing a million times. I mentioned that and TJ looked up at me, his eyebrows arched so high they were completely hidden under his shaggy bangs.

"I've never heard of a magic resistance that high."

I shrugged and motioned toward the woman. "I think that's why people have trouble healing me."

She was quick to agree with me. Her name's Clara, by the way. Once they knew my name it was like default that they all introduced themselves. Clara is a priestess—also not a warlock—and she's devoted her life to healing others or something. So like a biased Mother Teresa. Then Mr. Responsible's name is Randall and apparently he's like a priest, but not. I wasn't really paying attention to what they were calling him, because when they started talking about priests and some light thing, I got this super religious vibe off both of them and the feeling that if I tried to ask them to repeat so much as a word, they'd take it as an invitation to enlighten my poor, deprived soul.

I'm not really religious myself, if you can't tell. I mean, if people want to believe in something, that's cool, I just don't want them to be preaching to me all day long. And…yeah. They felt like the types who would totally do that.

So anyway. Those two follow the light. I guess TJ kind of does? I don't really know. He didn't seemed bothered much by the priesty talk. The jerk on the other hand, whose name is Nicolas—why can I remember his name and not TJ's?—got all grumbly when they started talking about souls and hope and stuff. Or maybe he's just always like that. I sure haven't seen him  _not_  be a jerk. Oh and their dragon has a name that's even weirder than Brath's, but he told me to call him Derres. It's got like Zs in it and stuff. Dragons are weird.

Since she finally listened to my whole, 'my world is ending' speech, she's been like super nice, but I still don't really like her. I mean, she can smile and say nice things all she wants, but I know she's just petty deep down. Gutter speak hater...

But I'm not about to shoot myself in the foot. She's got some guilt trip going on and I'm so using that to get her to help me. That's horrible, isn't it? It is. I can tell because Brath's proud of me.

Speaking of. Brath is one of those people who I think my parents would have told me that it was unhealthy to be friends with, since, you know, he's horribly evil and all. One of those 'friends' who just drags you down with them.

Since I couldn't take the portals, it was agreed that we would have to continue flying. I was less mad at Brath at this point, though I doubted he realized that I wouldn't be able to take portals when he told me that flying was the fastest way. I mean, I could tell myself that he did, but that would just make me look stupid. And feel it.

Like I don't already.

Well, TJ offered to go ahead of us, partially to let Randall know that we'd be taking forever to get there, and partially to go ahead and start talking to the draenei about going to my world. Since he's a mage, he's more knowledgeable about the whole unraveling space to make gateways thing. The jerk tried to say something about it wouldn't work, and that they had a raid to go to and all this stuff.

Just as I was about to tell them to go off on their raid and leave me to my travels, TJ perked up. "Your goggles." When I stared blankly at him, he motioned toward my bags. "If I can bring those to the draenei, then perhaps we can use it as an energy focus to locate your world and attempt to make a bridge to it."

I didn't understand half of what that meant. And that wasn't even the whole explanation. He went on talking about frequencies and stability and some other stuff for like five minutes before Derres interrupted him and suggested he go ahead. The half I did get was that he wanted to take away one of the main things that proved I was from another world. Sure, he was nice, but…I've been having so much bad luck here, right?

Right when I was gonna tell him no, it occurred to me that they were already broken, so even if he stole them, it wasn't like they'd be much help. And my anti-magic thing is proof enough, isn't it?

So I let him have them. Here's hoping he's not as manipulative as Brath and better at hiding it.

Well, Clara was really trying to prove that she wasn't a horrible person or something, because even as TJ's looking over my goggles and being awed by the plastic bits, she offered to let me ride with her to the Exodar.

On a griffon.

"Um…thanks but I already have a ride," was my response. And I'd pointed at Brath.

Well, Mr. Jerk was having none of that. It was weird, like he didn't realize that I knew someone was killing the dragons and he didn't want me to find out. Because he was all like, "Oh, we have to…take this dragon into custody." Blah blah blah.

Even Brath looked bored as he was talking.

"But Brath already promised to help save my world," I replied as innocently as I could. It occurred to me that I could probably pretend that I just didn't know he was evil, but then, remember how I can't lie for anything? Yeah. Gave up on that pretty quick. I decided that Nicolas had a certain 'do whatever it takes' vibe about him, so I tried to play off that.

God…Greg would be laughing so hard if he saw me trying to manipulate people. Even as the jerk started explaining that Derres could probably get some of his drake buddies to come help—which Derres responded to with this look that pretty much said he had no authority to do that, not that Nicolas noticed, since his the dragons were both behind him—I looked him over once and crossed my arms. "Are you swearing to me on your life that you'll save my world?" When he just sort of stopped, I frowned. "Because right now, Brath is the only help I've actually secured. And you want to take that from me. That does not make me trust you."

"You don't seem to understand that you don't have a choice in this," he snapped abruptly. "Either you take our help with a smile and a 'thank you' or we can leave you here, alone, dragonless to find your way north," he had a nasty look about him, "which, I have little to no doubt you couldn't find if we pointed you in the direction,  _or_  we could just kill you and be done with this nonsense."

Good to know he wasn't feeling guilty about being a douchebag earlier.

Any way, it was a harsh reminder that I was woefully underprepared for this journey. After all, Clara could probably beat me to a pulp, so Mr. Jerk and his dragon would have no trouble at all—and he'd already poisoned me once.

I was losing ground quickly. So I stared at back at him and just let myself talk. That'd worked a couple times by now, I think, so I figured I'd let my subconscious handle this one, too. "Two things: I am allergic to feathers," I'm totally not, "and Brath said he would keep his reigns on until after my world was saved."

I didn't know if that would matter. I mean, I could circumvent their power, making them useless, but maybe it would mean something to our captors?

It did.

This is the part where I type like twelve smiley faces with the little greater than angle bracket symbol above them that makes them look like they have angry or plotting eyebrows. Victory.

Of course Mr. Jerk was unphased. I think he'd seen me get sent off by Fizz or something—stalker—but his dragon buddy seemed all impressed and glanced at Brath as though a 'good' black dragon was the coolest thing since sliced bread. And Clara…I think she started praying, but I don't know if that was out of the ordinary or not. TJ didn't seem to care. I think he just wanted to head out and felt like he had to wait around to see what the others would do.

As the guy who made the portals, he probably did.

Well, Clara was adamant that she would fly with me, if only to make sure I didn't get hurt again. I was a bit disappointed when Derres spoke on his rider's behalf and said that they'd stick with us, too, to make sure Brath didn't try to chow down on us ladies or something.

TJ seemed fine with that and he led Randall's and his mounts through a portal as Mr. Jerk resentfully cut Brath free.

Brath was loving it, too. He gave the other dragon this wistful look and was all like, "How will I fly with these injuries?"

I think the other dragon regretted taking the ropes off his mouth. But apparently red dragons are healers. Because he fixed Brath up, and he in turn trotted over to me and acted all cuddly. I was not amused.

After all, I know he's a bad person and to see him happy with things that I've done…that doesn't bode well. And when Brath did that, Nicolas eyed me like he was going to make it his life goal to prove that I was as vile as the black dragons.

Well, he can bring it. Because I'm not. Yet…


	15. Not the Brightest

So...Clara is kind of a moron. Or maybe she just believes what she wants to. I don't know.

Traveling with her and what I hope is Azeroth's biggest jackass—if he's not, then this world has fallen on dire times indeed—wasn't so bad at first. When we were in flight. Brath kept his ramblings to himself and kept eyeing the other dragon, the griffon, and their riders, who were flanking us. Once, he edged closer to Derres so that their wings hit and Derres nearly lost his rider.

I hugged him for that after we landed, when no one was looking.

Sadly, Nicolas is a skilled rider and Derres is good at recovering quickly. So that stupid rogue—who is also nothing like a warlock and can't use magic at all, apparently—didn't plummet to his death. I think if he'd actually been hurt, I might have felt bad, but he wasn't so…yeah. If he's gonna be so mean, why can't I?

Anyway, we landed for the night in some mountains. Nicolas kept going at first and I had this hope that he was abandoning us. I wouldn't mind if he did. My world doesn't need him. However, Clara misread my expression, I guess, because she assured me that he was just going to hunt for dinner. Lame. That's what Brath was for, among other things.

However, since he'd been freed from the ropes, Brath had started acting oddly clingy. He'd stay close to me in general and pace after me when I got up to walk around, like he was…actually a mount or a scared animal or something. It was weird.

Oh! And his eyes were different. He didn't have that calculating, evil look in his eyes. He still looked smart, but not like he was masterminding some intricate plot. Like animal smart. He still spoke and made a few jokes at our…escorts' expense, but even his vocabulary seemed to have diminished somewhat.

I was starting to worry that they'd done something to him while I was unconscious.

Well, as I was worrying about Brath, Clara went about setting up camp. She had a tent and when she asked if I was going to pitch one, I just said I'd sleep with Brath. While I wasn't looking forward to having a scale face again, I figured it'd be better than the ground.

Even as Brath almost obediently curled up on the ground as though he thought we were going to sleep right then and there, Clara lightly took one of my hands and started to drag me away from him. Almost instantly, Brath was on his feet, plodding along after us. Clara paused and glanced back at him.

"Don't suppose you could watch the camp?"

Brath cocked his head and stared at her blankly. "I do not see why you need to leave it."

"I'd like to talk with Amy in private," she murmured and frowned when Brath merely nuzzled my hair, making it even messier than it already was. I don't see how Clara keeps her hair looking as nice as it does, what with the flying and all.

It took me a moment to see that Clara was staring at me. Finally, she pointed toward Brath. "Would you mind telling him to stay here?"

I wanted to ask her what she was smoking to think he'd listen to me, but as I looked back at Brath, for an instant I thought I saw his scaly mouth form a smile. However the animal look returned in a blink.

Wow. So he's just…playing them all. Would they be less likely to let him come along if they knew how smart he really is? Would Clara have sat me down to have that, "Sometimes you have to let your dragon go" sort of conversation, like that time my dad told me to let my goldfish live out his days happily after saying he'd set it free in pond near our house when I was seven and I had then spent the next week trying to fish him back up? Even after that speech, I'd tried to go fish Sparkles up again, only to have Greg yell at me that she was dead.

Or was this just so Brath could have fun later?

Well, finally, I kind of motioned over my shoulder. "Do you mind watching the camp?"

Brath nuzzled me again and it almost felt like genuine affection. Good thing I caught that look earlier, or he'd have been playing me, too. Or maybe he wanted me in on the joke? "If you think you'll be safe, mistress."

My eye twitched. He was totally gonna make me look like a hypocrite after the whole, 'I don't deal with slave traders' thing…acting like I  _owned_  him or something… "I'm not your mistress."

"Of course," he smiled at me as though he didn't really get what I was saying, but was going with it to make me happy. I wanted to scream.

Instead, I walked off with Clara. When we were far enough away that she felt Brath wouldn't be able to eavesdrop on our conversation, she clasped my hands and looked me square in the eyes. "Listen to me. I don't know what that dragon has told you, but you can't let your guard down around him."

Because I'm so much more formidable with my guard up, right? I didn't say that. As I was debating what I could say that wouldn't be overly sarcastic or rude, she continued.

"Black dragons are very dangerous and some of the more powerful ones can even take human guise." Oh. So they do know about the whole human thing. I'd been wondering if I ought to keep Brath's human form a secret or not. She paused and glanced back at our camp. Brath was sniffing her griffon and the creature was edging slowly away from him, like a blue jay trying to subtly get off the same branch as a hawk. "He hasn't…changed his form in front of you, has he?"

Oooh. Fishing expedition. I would say that they should have chose someone else to get all buddy-buddy with me, but TJ was already gone and I think they can tell that I'm still mad at Derres for hurting Brath.

While I might suck at lying outright, I'm sort of decent at side stepping a question until people fill in their own blanks. "When you say 'changed form'…what exactly am I supposed to look for? Like smaller claws?"

"He would look human, like Nicolas," Clara seemed relieved that she had to explain that to me. I glanced back at Brath. He had the griffon backed almost into the half-pitched tent. I wanted to cheer for him to go for it, but that would have alerted Clara that her mount was in danger.

That makes me a bad person, doesn't it?

What's worse, is that I'm starting to not mind the thought of being amoral and all. Right now, it's just where griffons and Nicolas are concerned, but I've always heard that this sort of stuff is a slippery slope. One day, I don't care if Nicolas is fed to dragons. The next day, I'm fine with my world being destroyed.

At least that hasn't happened yet.

"Look, just…be careful, okay?" Clara drew me from my thoughts and I nodded. Where was this kind nature a week ago? "Dragons are very smart."

The way she said that…it was like how we talk about dolphins in my world. Remind me to relook at those critters if I ever make it back. Maybe they're smarter than we think…

"Like…how smart?" I couldn't help myself. Even if I did think of Brath as somewhat of a friend, I wanted to know how easily he could manipulate me—like maybe he was manipulating me one way or another or even manipulating me to do one thing while manipulating me to do something else or something Inception-y like that.

Clara blinked and took a minute to think on the question. "Well, the older, more powerful dragons are easily as smart as any human or dwarf or elf…" she hesitated and glanced back at Brath before smiling at me. "I don't think your drake is terribly old, though."

"It's not  _her_  drake, remember?"

A voice I have really grown to hate interrupted our conversation and we looked over to see Nicolas stepping out of the wood, with another man following behind him. Even as I hissed that I'd never said Brath was mine, I got a better look at the second guy and my head just kind of tilted to the side.

He was an elf, if I've ever seen one. I mean, he was no Legolas, but he had pointy ears and the lithe figure and all. And glowing eyes. Super creepy, glowing eyes.

I think I got a sort of deer-in-the-headlights look because the elf guy blinked at me for a moment before pointing to himself. "Don't fret, child. I'm Derres."

Well, that sealed Clara's faith that I'd never seen Brath in a human form. Even as I was wondering if I should bother to ask him why his eyes glowed—if I was just gonna get the whole, 'it's magic' response, then I didn't need to waste my time, but maybe it's so he can see in the dark better or something—suddenly I felt a large chin resting on my head and realized that Brath had come over and was leaning on me, lightly, as though he didn't want to miss what was going on.

After a short, awkward argument that Brath wasn't mine that ended with me having to ask him to behave—why is he doing this to me when I saved him?—the men folk decided that we frail women had gone on long enough without praising their hunt and they pointed out the critters they'd caught. Clara clapped her hands and was all sorts of happy about rabbits and the like. I wanted to say that Brath could've caught something bigger, but I didn't want to hurt Derres' feelings.

I'm starting to like him, whether I want to or not. Maybe it's because he can look like an elf and I always thought they'd be kind of cool to meet. I mean, the freaky eyes are something I can get used to, right? After all, practically everything in Azeroth has freaky eyes.

Our meal was uneventful. Clara and Derres tried to talk to me about my world and it was kind of fun, kind of depressing thinking that there might not be enough of a society left for things like going out to the movies or hanging out at the mall to still be considered pastimes. Nicolas just glared at me the whole time, like he was waiting for me to slip up and prove that I wasn't really from another world. Maybe he thought I was a dragon, too.

Finally, Derres said that we should head to bed and that he'd keep an eye on the camp while we slept. Which brought Clara back to the whole tent thing. Well, I had a nifty idea and told them that I'd stay with Brath and when Clara looked worried, I said that I thought Nicolas would kill my ride if I didn't keep my own watch. I think Brath was amused.

Derres, however, just laughed. "He won't. Then you'd have to ride with us, since you're allergic to feathers."

I love lying. It means I don't have to be in the same saddle as that jerk. Well, he hadn't thought of that either and you could just see the gears shifting in his head as he frowned.

With my latest excuse shot down, Clara kept bugging me until I finally admitted that I didn't have a tent. And I'd already spent quite a few nights in the open, so it was cool that I just keep at it, right?

Well,  _that_  couldn't be had. So after ten minutes of politely telling her I didn't mind the open air, I had a tent buddy.

What's that saying about choosing your battles? Where I slept was not a battle to be fought. I did ask if Nicolas would be joining us. I would rather sleep on glass shards than anywhere near him. Clara's…of a different mindset, I suppose. She just smiled and said that he had his own tent and that I didn't need to worry about modesty.

I'm not saying that I would go around parading myself in front of guys, but that's more something you worry about around decent people. I'm not really sure Nicolas counts as a person. He's so…

Well, camp was quiet for a bit after I helped set up the tent—my dad used to force my family to go camping twice a year, so I actually can make a camp fire and stuff, if I have materials for it—and I was happy with the quiet. I would have liked to have been able to read for a little bit, but Clara was dead set on listening to the dragon and that meant no light in the tent.

I tried to sleep for a while, but finally I couldn't take lying there anymore. I mean, it occurred to me that I probably shouldn't be defending Brath. I mean, he lied to me to get me to remove his reins. And now he wants to come to my world to escape someone killing dragons and have me release him into the wild.

I mean, I know killing people is wrong, but I get the feeling that Azeroth operates on an older code of conduct, one with chivalry—like I've seen any—and capital punishment. Like, quick capital punishment. Not the kind where you get to appeal the court's decision for twenty years and then spend another five on death row. Like, "Oh, you're guilty." BAM. Dead.

That sort of stuff. So maybe to them, killing Brath wasn't nearly as horrible as it was to me. Maybe Brath ate some village's children and that's why he'd been made a mount. I mean, I was really making assumptions without knowing the full story.

The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. I didn't want to condemn Brath unnecessarily, but I didn't want to turn into a monster myself. Finally I felt like I was going to go crazy if I let my thoughts keep me company any longer, so I got up. Clara's a heavy sleeper. Which didn't really matter, I guess, because when I want to be quiet, I'm really good at it.

I used to sneak up on Greg and his friends all the time. His best friend, Josh, would always greet me by saying, "Hey, little Miss Ninja." I thought it was stupid, but…whatever.

So I slipped out of the tent and was figuring that maybe I'd read a bit after all, when what do I see but Mr. Jerk reading the journal Fizz had given me.

He was even using Fizz's note as a bookmark.

It irked me. He was going through my things, without my permission. No duh he was probably looking for something to incriminate me with, but that didn't really register. I was closer to passing out than I'd realized because, you know that sort of half awake phase you go through sometimes when drifting off or waking up where you think really stupid stuff is a good idea?

I kind of forgot about the whole, he's really good with sharp objects thing, because I  _was_  pretty tired, as it was. Just not tired enough to sleep. And I couldn't see Brath or Derres anywhere—I did look for them because I was going to tell them to be quiet while I snuck up on Nicolas. I guess they were perched higher up on the mountain side or something…maybe they wanted a better view of the camp? Or maybe they'd flown off together to duel… It's not like I knew what dragons did when the rest of us were asleep.

Anyway, I wasn't really thinking about them. Instead, I crept up behind Nicolas and grabbed his shoulders. After all the mean things he'd said to me, I'd just wanted to see him jump.

Oh, he jumped alright. But instead of being like Greg or Josh and just cursing at me, he kept moving.

In a breath, he had me pinned to the ground by my throat and it occurred to me that sneaking up on dragon slayers is tremendously stupid.


	16. Minus 50 DKP

I gotta say, I'm pretty happy right now. I shouldn't be. I should really sort this mess out, but…it's just so much fun seeing everyone mad at Nicolas. I mean, you'd think they'd have been mad at me, right? Or suspicious because I was sneaking around.  _So_  not what happened.

Well, when he tackled me to the ground, Nicolas unknowingly twisted my leg under me—yes, the same one that keeps getting hurt. I don't know what it is about that leg that just screams, "Injure me!" But it's there.

Anyway. On top of being pinned to the ground by a super pissed off guy who wanted an excuse to kill me, my knee felt like it was gonna snap, so I jerked it up. I think he thought I was trying to nail him in the nads or something because he caught my leg with his free hand.

Remember how I said that one of my pants' knees looked like it was about to rip? Well it chose then to do so, ripping pretty much from seam to seam, and the pant leg slid up because my knee was bent and Nicolas ended up gripping my lower thigh.

Neither of us noticed this right away. I don't know—or want to know—what he was thinking, but in my mind, all I could think was that I'd been a moron and that he was gonna kill me and then there would be no one to save my world. So I had tears brimming, though I did manage to keep from flat out bawling. I'm getting better about the whole crying thing.

Now, Clara may sleep through everything, but I swear she has a person-in-need radar or something. Maybe there's something to this light of theirs. Anyway, in seconds she was stumbling out of her tent and…Oh. My. God.

The look on her face when she saw Nicolas pinning me to the ground and 'groping' me while I looked ready to sob my little heart out?

I could die happy. I don't think she said a word to him for the rest of the trip north.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Anyway, I know I need to clear this up, but then it gives Nicolas' whole, "She's a damn rogue! She was trying to attack me from behind!" argument credibility. And I really don't want them suspicious of me when I need them to save my world.

And they might kill Brath.

I guess Nicolas told the dragons he'd watch the camp so that they could go get a meal and they were on their way back when the whole thing happened. So they pretty much saw me leaning toward him—Brath is adamant that I looked like I was asking what Nicolas was reading…my partner in crime—and then him whirling around and attacking me.

Well, while Clara was yelling at Nicolas—the ground actually got burned in a couples places with some sort of priesty magic and you could see Nicolas dodging something I could barely make out, it moved so fast—Brath pretty much dive bombed him.

But before Derres could come defend his rider, Brath darted over to me and circled me with his body and flapped his wings out, you know, like how some animals do weird things to make themselves look bigger than they are? It works really well when you're a dragon who's already bigger than a human. Then he crouched down low and hissed, like his priority wasn't tearing Mr. Jerk to pieces, but protecting me. Well played, sir.

Or maybe he really did want to protect me, since I  _can_  remove his reins. I guess that would make my life worth saving.

Well, with everyone glaring his way, Nicolas was quick to accuse me of being a rogue, like I mentioned earlier. This theory was tested by handing me a dagger. I think the intent was for me to duel someone, but I couldn't even grip the thing right, so they all gave up on that idea.

Even Nicolas didn't try to claim that I was just pretending to be incompetent. I guess he knows the difference between the real thing and a faker.

Well, I almost came out right there and cleared his name of any molestation charges Clara might want to throw his way, but…I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I liked not being the one everyone was staring down for once.

So now Clara can't look at Nicolas without getting angry. I think Derres knows the truth is a little different than how everyone's claiming it went, including his rider's version, so he's just been kind of quiet about it all.

I did tell Clara that I didn't think it would happen again—I sure wasn't gonna sneak up on him again—but she seems skeptical. That she would jump so quickly to such conclusions and then stick with them when I tell her it's okay makes me think maybe Nicolas  _is_  a degenerate, but…eh.

I almost feel bad for him.

And then I remember what a jerk he is and I feel borderline giddy.

If Brath is enjoying this—he must be—he hasn't really shown it. He's just been acting super grumpy and even more clingy than before. Goodbye sleeping in a tent. Why? Because it's not big enough for my dragon to stay and keep watch over me.

Not  _my_  dragon, but you get the idea…

I almost want to just take off his reins now and tell him to fly off into the sunset, but then I'd have to either ride with the guy I'm letting people think tried to do stuff to me or admit that I lied about being allergic to feathers. Either action brings my credibility into question.

This is why I shouldn't lie. Or just get better at it.

No one got much sleep that night, but we still headed out bright and early the next day. And no one did much talking that night or the next morning either.

I wanted to ask Derres about what Brath had done—he seemed like of my traveling companions, he'd be the one to know—to warrant the reins, but I couldn't get away from Brath to ask. And I didn't want Nicolas thinking I was having doubts about Brath's help because then he might kill him.

A true conundrum, if ever there was one.

I don't think we flew as fast as Brath would have if we were alone, but it took a total of seven days from when Brath and I had been attacked to reach the Exodar.

Most of the trip was uneventful after that first night. I think that Clara and Nicolas did come to some understanding that in the very least it wouldn't happen again, because she stopped giving him quite so cold a shoulder.

Our last night, we stopped on a beach. While the prettiest beaches seemed to be near Booty Bay, this one had a weird sort of serenity to it, even though there had obviously been a tidal wave that had messed with the tree line. A lot of trees—which looked like pine trees, which thrilled me, since North Carolina's state tree is a pine, so it felt sort of like home—had their root systems unearthed and we actually camped underneath one, in case there was a storm or anything.

We'd been flying toward this giant twister and I totally freaked out, jerking on Brath's reins and everything to get him to stop flying forward. Brath was not amused that I'd actually  _used_  the reins, but he couldn't very well act on that irritation, seeing as he was being watched so closely. Even as Nicolas and Clara drew back to me and seemed genuinely surprised by my concern, Derres said that so long as we didn't get too close, we'd be fine.

Who ever heard of a stationary tornado? Even the weather is weird in Azeroth.

Apparently while random tornados are unheard of, it can still rain without warning—I know technically our weather forecasters can study cloud movement and stuff, but it still feels random to me—and so we hunkered down underneath a tree.

This night was the first time that Clara actually let Nicolas sleep near the rest of us since the 'incident', which makes me think she finally started to think better of him after he didn't try anything again.

So she passed out pretty early on. And the dragons left to go find bears to eat or something. Which left me alone with Nicolas.

It was fine. I mean, it wasn't like I had to talk to him or anything. He, however, was of a different mindset. The stars were beginning to come out—I didn't like looking at them because I couldn't recognize any of the constellations. Remember those mandatory camping trips? My dad made sure I could find the big dipper, Orion, Leo, and Cassiopeia. He figured that'd have me able to find my way for most any point in the year, if I ever got lost in the wilderness. Guess he didn't consider other worlds.

I wonder if he and mom tried to get back home. I mean, air travel was out, because of the mass panic and with marshal law, it wasn't like he could just drive across the country… There were people who had been doing it, of course, but I don't know if my parents would be the types to tell the law to screw off in a disaster.

What if the military managed to repel the demons from my town and my family made it back and thinks that I'm dead? That would be awful….

And unlikely, I know.

Anyway, I was staring at the waves since the sky was out, and Nicolas suddenly grabbed my shoulders. So I swung my book up to try to hit him in the face before I even realized it was him. He dodged it easily enough and sat down beside me, eyeing me with this hard to read expression.

"Clara didn't really trust you until that little stunt you pulled," he said pointedly.

Did he think I framed him on purpose? Like I could pull something like that off. "I didn't pull anything," I muttered, keeping an eye on him.

He shook his head slowly, suddenly holding my book. I couldn't help but glance down at my hands and wonder when he'd had time to steal it. He handed it back to me. "You can stealth, but your situational awareness is atrocious." Nicolas paused, leaning his chin into one hand as he watched the waves, too. "And your reaction time is pitiful."

"I guess it'll make it easier when you decide to off me," I grumbled, edging a bit away from him. I didn't like having him for company.

"If I was going to kill you, you'd already be dead," he abruptly stretched out and closed his eyes. "I have to say though, I was surprised to find out that you were a rogue—"

"I'm not." Something about his tone…he was impressed. I snuck up on him and he got accused of being a pervert and he was impressed? He can't let me have any triumph, can he?

"Would you like to be?"

I turned slowly to look down at him. He was watching me with a dead serious look on his face. Even as I tried to think of a good insult, like something Brath would say—I try to ignore that I've been using an evil dragon as a role model every now and then—he rose to his feet and stretched before heading toward his tent. "Don't rush your decision. As soon as we get you to the Exodar, we have to take care of some things. After that, if…" he paused for a moment and then shrugged. "When we get back, I'll teach you."

I glared at him. "And why would you do that?"

"Consider it an apology for treating you so poorly."

Jerk. Jerk, jerk, jerk. He's going to be practically as horrible as Brath—worse, really—and then just turn around and try to make it all better by…by what? Teaching me to hold a dagger? Like little old me could go around demon slaying? Is this his way of saying he's not gonna save my world, but point me in the right direction to doing it myself?

I hate him.

I pretty much didn't sleep at all that night—it's amazing that I can function in Azeroth with so little sleep. In the morning, Nicolas didn't even look at me or address the offer he'd made. It was like it had never even happened and I half considered that it had been some messed up dream. But that would mean that I'm dreaming about him, so I nixed that thought pretty fast. No way is that creep getting into my subconscious.

Anyway, I guess the ball was in my court, in regards to taking him up or not. …He wasn't gonna make me beg for training in front of people, was he? I'd train to be a freakin' warlock before I'd do that. And yes, I'm keeping in mind my inability to use magic.

As we were leaving, Brath joked that I was going to fall into the ocean because I was too tired, but that just left me having to assure Clara for the next ten minutes that I was capable of flying. It could have been ten years. The draenei were across some small expanse of ocean and she wanted to talk safety? They were out there, living on an island that I could almost make out if I squinted really hard at the horizon. Or maybe that was just my hopes building up.

Regardless, I was super excited. After what could have been an eternity, it looked like my journey might finally be over soon.

Fingers crossed, right?

 


	17. Too Little, Too Late

I'm…not much in a sharing mood right now.

It's like traveling with other humans made my whole dilemma a little less real. Like being angry at Nicolas all the time and then reveling in his misfortune was a good distraction and it helped ease all my pent up stress. Helped me cope, you know? But…well.

When we arrived on the island where the draenei live, I was happy to see that it was considerably bigger than any of the islands I had seen before. No tiny rock in the middle of an angry sea.

Rather, the ocean had looked rather benign on the way over and the sun was shining. Birds were chirping when we got close enough to land to hear them. Fish were jumping. Draenei were talking and laughing.

Holy crap, draenei are huge. And nobody mentioned they had face tentacles. It was so hard not to stare. From the hooves to the tails to the horns…to the blue, blue, blue skin. I know Fizz mentioned all this, but he didn't mention the blinding lights for eyes that made you see spots if you tried to hold their gaze for more than a few seconds. Or the fact that they were freaking walking walls. I felt like an eight year old who wandered in during one of my parents' business meetings to see all the adults looming overhead.

They were all really nice, though. I mean, I must have been looking pretty bedraggled at that point, but they still smiled at me like my hair wasn't wild and my face hadn't gone weeks without a good scrub.

Apparently their city is a crashed space ship. How crazy is that? It's got a lot of bright crystal lights in it too, so it's like no matter where you look, your eyes hurt. And the architecture is so weird. I don't know how to describe it well…I don't think an architect from my world could describe it and do it justice. Think lots of shades of purples and blues and light grays though.

Not my point.

So when we landed, the draenei asked that our mounts stay up near the entrance to the city, in the stables. While I didn't want to let Brath out of my sight, he seemed fine with it, saying that he would keep Derres company. Derres was thrilled, I'm sure.

But I guess he was determined to keep an eye on the bad guy, so they stayed with Muffins, Clara's griffon. Did not see that name coming. We'd barely waved goodbye to Derres and Brath when we turned around and found Randall was waiting for us. I don't know if he was waiting the whole time we'd been flying up or if he knew how long we'd be or something and just got there.

We arrived early afternoon, by the way.

He and TJ had talked the draenei into letting me stay at the local inn for free—which was a busted up piece of the spaceship, but its beds looked way more comfortable than pretty much anything I'd seen in Azeroth yet—and they were pretty much insistent that I take some time and take a bath, try on the new clothes that they'd gone out of their way to get me—the new shoes did look really appealing, seeing as mine were falling apart and chaffing my ankles—you know, just relax a bit.

Like that was gonna happen. When I gave Randall this "No way am I wasting precious time." look, he looked…crestfallen. Worn down. Defeated.

I didn't like it.

So I asked where TJ was—which was awkward since I couldn't remember his name—and Randall finally told me that TJ was working with some mages over in the Vault of Lights. The whole place wasn't a vault of light?

Even as I dreaded how bright  _that_  area might be, he pointed in a general direction and it was like pure luck, or so I thought at the time, because that was right when TJ stepped out of this building type thing in the distance, stretching and rubbing his eyes.

Well, I bolted to him. A few of the draenei gave me curious looks as I ran past them, but as I got closer to TJ, the few whose faces I saw looked…unhappy to see me.

I slowed down before I could tackle my second favorite mage—Fizz will always be my first—and smiled brightly at him.

"Did you get the goggles to work?" When he jumped and stared at me wide eyed like I was some kind of ghost, I frowned. "You know. To make the portal."

Instead of answering me at first, he glanced past me, giving a quick glare in Randall's direction. I guess he was supposed to keep me at bay or something. Then he offered me a forced smile. "About that…"

I remembered what his portals had looked like when I'd tried to go through them, right? So when I noticed a shimmery image through the doorway and half hidden behind some crates in the building he'd just come out of, I darted in without thinking. TJ tried to stop me, but I was too quick for him.

With the Exodar portal, I had been able to see some of the actual city around where the portal led, right? Well, it took me a minute to really register what I was seeing through the shimmery, translucent light of the one to my world.

The sky, from what I could see of it beyond the buildings, was overshadowed and gray. Everything was gray…everything was broken. Buildings, pavement, lamp posts. Glass from windows littered sidewalks and half the cars that I could see were little more than twisted hunks of metal.

The worst of it though, was the bodies. Mutilated corpses were scattered across the street. Their flesh was mostly rotted off, but you could see the way the bones were mangled that their deaths had been horrible. The few who still had faces looked like they'd been in agony when they died. Even their skin and bones had taken on grayish hues.

When the extent of the devastation hit me, at first I tried to tell myself this must have been an isolated area, maybe somewhere far off in Greenland or something.

And then the image switched. Another street filled with broken metal and mangled bones. I felt sick. When I turned around, I saw that the draenei were apparently keeping track of the places the portal had shown, because there were different images. All of them showed the same thing.

A dead world.

I vaguely remember someone saying, apologetically, that they'd been monitoring the portal for a few days and that they hadn't been able to find any signs of life.

I didn't hear the others come in after me. Apparently Clara smacked TJ for letting me see the portal thing. I didn't hear Nicolas ask me if I could stand back up—I'd collapsed to my knees—or the draenei woman who asked me if I wanted her to show me where I could lay down.

I know I'd seen youtube videos, but those had all been in infrared. I don't know if people just hadn't been posting the carnage or if governments were keeping them down but…

I don't know if they led me back to the inn or not. I can't really remember. I saw their faces. The corpses. And I couldn't help but wonder if any of them were Bethany or Greg or someone else I knew. I couldn't even recognize them if they were.

In the end, I ended up running from everyone and I found myself in the woods near the city. I don't know what I thought I was doing. Like, did I think that if I ran away those images would disappear? Or that my world might reset somehow?

My world… I didn't have one anymore. I failed.

I  _failed_.

"I'd have thought you'd be like to take a nice nap after a journey ended, myself." A cheerful, condescendingly amused voice finally reached me.

Brath.

I felt him nuzzle my head and all at once I was angry. I whirled around, slamming one of my hands into his face and ignoring as his scales ripped up my knuckles. He blinked at me, surprised. "You!" I swung at him and he simply darted back a step out of my reach. "If you had just told me about portals! They could have found a way earlier! We could have…we could have…" What could we have really done that would have made a difference? "You…bastard!" I screamed at him.

It had to be someone's fault. But who was there to blame? Clara and the others for not listening earlier? Fizz for not working his magic faster? Me for being so stupid and slow?

"What turn of events has brought this?" Brath asked. When I looked at him, I could barely make him out past the tears blurring my vision.

"What do you even care?" I felt like something in me was breaking, crumbling away slowly at the edges, the pieces disappearing into nothingness. "You just want those stupid reins off!"

"I do." Brath responded. His voice was too calm and I thought I saw a flicker in his eyes. That psychopath glimmer. I couldn't stand it.

Reaching forward, I grabbed at him and at first he pulled away, thinking I was trying to hit him again. Even as he did so, my fingers caught part of the reins and I jerked them away from him. He froze for a moment as the leather thudded to the ground and then looked at me in bewilderment.

"There! You're free!" I felt tears starting to run down my cheeks. "So just…go away! Go help your dad destroy the world or…whatever! I don't care…"

And then I fell to the ground sobbing. No surprise there, right? After all, it's all I'm good at.


	18. Hope Renewed

…My breakdown lasted about eight days. I don't really know what pulled me out of it. But, I guess I'd been going to that portal thing—it's not actually a portal, just like a…hologram? No that's not right. It's like a camera, letting me see into the world, but there's no way to actually get there.

Well, the past few days, I guess I'd been coming there and just staring at it. When I started really noticing my surroundings again, I was staring at it. I guess that Clara and the others said goodbye to me and that they'd be back when they could, to help me figure out where I could stay or what I could do—I guess there was even a brief debate about shipping me off to some cathedral when I 'got better', though TJ said they should hold off deciding my future until they found out if I'd ever be more than a vegetable again—but I don't remember that at all.

And Brath…it may sound weird, but he left me a letter. I haven't read it yet. I don't want to know what he said. Though…even leaving a letter means he didn't leave right away, not that I know what that means exactly… Grrr…it's so frustrating because, not that I'd ever tell him and it's totally horrible of me, but I really liked having him around. Sure he was crazy, but he backed me up, even if it was for his own schemes.

I started to read his letter—which is apparently in draconic so that the draenei won't be likely to read it—but the first sentence is something like, "I cannot stress how your stupidity has thrown a kink into my plans…"

I may miss him, but that doesn't mean I want to be berated by a piece of paper in his absence. So I stopped reading.

Anyway, when I finally did come back to my senses, it dawned on me that my eyes hurt and I reached up to rub them. No sooner had I done so, I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned to see one of those draenei women sitting beside me. I think I jumped at first, because it took a minute for everything to register and for me to remember what draenei were and that they were friendly.

She was patient though, offering me water when she was satisfied that I wasn't going to bolt. As I took it and sipped, realizing that my mouth felt super dry, she nodded her head toward that grotesque image. "You…found it?" When I didn't follow, a hint of sadness crept into her smile. "You kept saying there had to be something we have missed."

I stared at her for a long time and then I ran my hand through my hair. It was so grimy. When I looked down, my fingernails were caked with dirt and I was still in my thread bare, torn up clothes. I tried to remember whatever it was that I'd apparently been looking for, but everything was blank.

The draenei woman rose to her feet and offered me a hand. "Come. Let us get you washed up and I am sure it will come to you."

I felt bad taking her clean hand when mine was so dirty. And I felt bad turning away from my world to go scrub off the dirt when I'd failed so spectacularly. But what was I supposed to do? Stop living because I screwed up my entire world's chance at surviving? Was there ever really a chance that I could save it? When I looked at it like that, it seemed like it'd only be fair that I die off with the rest of my people, but the draenei merely patted my shoulder and tugged on my hand. "Come. You will feel better. I promise."

I almost called her a liar, but I didn't. My feet were heavy and everything felt so…numb.

Well, the draenei have a sort of bath house type thing and as I bathed, I couldn't help but feel that they'd vacated it for me. Like my depression was contagious. Thanks guys.

When I got out, there was a pile of clothes folded neatly near the door. I got dressed without paying much attention to it, besides noting that they were a bit big on me. But they felt clean and that was nice.

Maybe they didn't expect me to be done so quickly, but the woman from earlier wasn't around when I left, so I just started wandering around. And I got hopelessly lost.

Remember how in Booty Bay everyone knew of the strange human who didn't speak anyone's language? Well, I think word had gotten around the Exodar that there was a strange, depressing human in their midst. While the people in Booty Bay had gone out of their way to talk to me, the draenei were quite the opposite. A few gave me tight lipped smiles or reluctant nods when my gaze happened to meet theirs, but for the most part, everyone seemed like talking to me would end  _their_  world.

Then it occurred to me. The demons had attacked Booty Bay because of me—I think it was because of me, anyway—so were they worried that I was going to bring the Legion crashing down on their home?

Was I?

It seemed dumb that the demons would come after a lonely little human, but who's to say how demons think?

I kept my gaze down after that, not wanting to see anymore weird stares. I was still super depressed and all, wondering if I ought to just exile myself or something—walk into the ocean, maybe—when I heard laughter.

Holy crap, it'd felt like I hadn't heard simple giggles and laughs in thousands of years.

So I went toward it, just because I wanted something that might cheer me up. It'd probably be something closer to gaming humor—Greg and his friends used to laugh at comments like, 'What pet does the best dee pee ess?' and yelling the name Leroy—which I never got, but I figured maybe it'd be enough to make me feel less bleh. Like a joke can make seeing your world a dead husk any better, right?

Well, when I came over, it was this draenei woman—not the one who'd been with me before. She seemed younger, though I couldn't quite place her age. Maybe early twenties or something? It's hard to tell age on other species, but that might just be because I'm not used to seeing them.

Anyway, she had this little mechanical toy and it was doing something…I couldn't see it well from my stalker stance in the doorway, but she must have been laughing about it. Just as I was thinking I should leave her to whatever she was doing, she saw me. With a grin, she motioned for me to come over.

"You are engineer?"

"No." I mumbled.

She waved her hand like it didn't matter. "Look at what I have got scrapbot to do…." She turned some crank on the toy and it broke out into this seventies type dance. It was kind of funny. "Now you will never be bored while raid leaders explain logistics of fight, yes?"

"I bet raid leaders will love that," I tried to joke, imagining them to be sort of like teachers vying for attention from the class clown. She broke out into giggles again and I had to say that I smiled a little bit. It was nice to have someone talking to me again.

She left the toy dancing and went about messing with a few others, trying to tweak their programming to do different dances and I couldn't help but feel that engineers must be the geeks of Azeroth. This made me happy, if only because it reminded me of my brother.

Maybe raiders are like the jocks?

Well, she let me hang out with her, talking about different things and showing me what she was talking about when she lapsed into engineer talk, "You see this little twirly thing…yes, the blue one? It should be a little to the left, but then it will hit the green twirly thing…" I liked that she dumbed down the names for me… "…but where it is, it hits the copper bolt. So it must be moved if this is to be able to move onto its toes, but I am not sure how."

I just shrugged. I had no clue how to fix that sort of stuff. After maybe half an hour of chatting, the draenei abruptly gasped, as though she'd left a group of children unattended in a bath tub. "We have not introduced ourselves." She slapped her hand against her chest. "Neesera Lightsong."

I sat up straighter as well, trying to mimic her odd formality. "Amy Ford."

Her face fell instantly. There was an awkward silence and I finally tried to joke it off. I didn't want her to reject me, too. "Um…if I did something wrong, it'd help if you told me."

Okay, half-joke. Not really a joke. I just wanted people to stop treating me like a leper.

Neesera's eyes widened—making their blinding light even worse—and she grabbed my hand. "No! No, no, no, no." I'm not sure she said no enough times before she continued. "You have done nothing wrong." She motioned to herself. "It was us. We failed."

When I just stared at her blankly, she tried to think how to explain herself. I could see when it dawned on her to attempt an angle of someone who'd never heard of a draenei before. "We, draenei, take the Burning Legion very serious," she paused, "I mean, not that others do not, but…" She seemed at a loss for a minute before shaking her head. "It is our responsibility to stop the Burning Legion. You brought to us a failure to do so. Everyone is feeling the weight."

I stared at her for a minute, trying to make sense of it. "So…the reason no one wants to look me in the eyes is because…"

"We failed your world."

Wow. The draenei are hard core. I like it. Though they could probably tone it down a bit and still be awesome.

Neesera looked down at the scrapbots, with less enthusiasm than before. "They are saying there were billions of lives lost."

"It's not your fault," I offered almost instinctively. But it was true enough, wasn't it? Even as she gave me this sad smile, I hugged her. It may sound weird, hugging a stranger, but I think in the end, I was the one who really wanted a hug. She wasn't expecting that, but she hugged me back. It's a good thing her horns went straight up, like an antelope's, too, because otherwise I probably would have accidently impaled myself. I don't think when I act. I really need to fix that.

When I let go, she still held me to her and it took me a second to realize she was crying. Draenei are like super empathetic or something. When I finally got her to calm down, she explained to me the eredar and how, yes it was really their fault. I told her that was stupid and that you can't control other people's actions. That the fact that they were trying to save other worlds at all made them pretty awesome and that no one could be expected to save everyone.

I felt a bit better distancing myself from my world and throwing it in with all the others.

Well, we talked for a bit about non-life-or-death topics, like engineering and weather and stuff. Finally, it was getting pretty late, so Neesera offered to walk me back to the inn. It was fun to have her around. I didn't even notice the stares from the other draenei on the way back.

And I regaled her with tales of electronics from my world. Even though, in retrospect, I think it made Neesera sad, she still smiled and listened. She did enjoy my story of the toaster that Greg tried to 'improve'. The machine ended up shooting toast into our ceiling with enough force that one of them got plastered up there. Greg had to spend the next two days scraping bread bits off the ceiling. It was priceless.

It's still hard for me to think that he could really be gone.

Anyway, I'd moved on to talk about this time Greg tried to 'adjust' a street sign so that it would spin when cars drove up—he was trying to make sure that Aunt Isabella didn't find our house, because he didn't want her lecturing us about Twilight and how awesome it was that she had the same name as the main character—when it hit me.

Street signs. Signs in general.

"How do we get to the portal place?"

Well, at first my new friend had no clue what I was talking about, but after a brief foray into phrases like, 'the shimmery stuff' and 'mages make them, you know?', she realized where I was talking about and led the way.

I'd been so upset about the what, but not the where, right? I mean, yeah I saw that police officer get killed right in front of me, but I'd never seen mass death like that and I think maybe I freaked out too soon, right?

When we got there, the woman from before wasn't there, but there was a guy grimly inspecting the image. It had changed to a different scene. And, as I watched it, it switched again and this time I realized that I recognized one of the broken buildings from the previous image, just from a different angle and way further away. I trotted up next to him and he sort of jumped when I touched his arm to break his concentration.

"This portal—"

"My apologies," he murmured and motioned toward the shimmering image. "We do not have enough power to make a full portal to your world. This is merely a way to look in."

"This thing then…how far have you looked?" I pointed at it.

"How far?" The man seemed lost for a moment.

"Like…miles?" Do they have miles in Azeroth?

I think Fizz's translation spell must have translated that word for me into whatever measurement they would need, though, because he nodded. Fizz would be a god in my world, I swear. Language barriers crumble before that mighty goblin.

He made this sort of map appear in the air near us and it was my turn to jump. Then he was all apologetic for scaring me for like, ever. When I finally got him back on track, I could see that they'd been to maybe a hundred cities.

Out of how many hundreds of thousands of cities there are in my world? So I asked him if he'd seen any signs, you know, to figure out  _where_  this was exactly. I mean, I would think it would be around my town, since, you know, I came from there, but who knows, right?

These draenei are something else. They have all these catalogues of stuff. Monsters, species, areas destroyed by the Legion. Apparently they'd been mapping out my world, looking for any signs of how the Legion had destroyed us in specific, to help them fight them later. And I guess the Legion recruits new species from time to time, like elves from this world, so there was a possibility that there were new monsters to contend with that the draenei would need to learn about.

That's a bit off topic, though.

Um, about the camera thing. It's not real time. Apparently it's really hard to even peer into my world because of the lack of magic, so what the spell(?) or whatever it is does is send an image every hour, about. And it travels. Hence the map.

So far, they haven't seen any life, but…I don't think that's something to worry about, depending on where this is. And even then... I know, you may be thinking, you're still hoping? Are you crazy?

No. Well, maybe. But, think about it. If there were living people still in those cities, would they leave all those bodies lying around? Duh. In my world, we can't see the demons. So why would we make it obvious that we're in a certain part by cleaning up after them when we don't know if they've even left for sure? It's grizzly and depressing, but to survive after what those monsters have done, people are gonna need to blend into the destruction.

And, who's to say this portal-camera is invisible? If people can see it, they sure aren't going to trust that it's friendly.

Though…if someone had seen it, they probably would have tried to destroy it by now.

Whatever. I'm dealing with one problem at a time.

Well, I asked the guy if he could bring up all the signs, right? And he said he would try, but that it would take a while. I wanted to see what direction the thing was traveling in, you know? And where I was looking. Like, if this was Brazil or Australia, then yeah, my world is probably gone. But if these images were from one of the countries that had already fallen when I was still in my world—or even from my town and the surrounding ones—then there was hope. For the southern hemisphere at least.

He promised to look into those signs for me and Neesera helped to drag me off so that he could get back to his job.

When we were pretty close to the inn, we saw the woman who'd taken me to the bath and a few of the Exodar guards backing her. She was arguing with someone. From the angle of her chin, it was someone pretty short.

"I tell you. It is not my fault. I left her to relax and was called away for a moment. When I came back, she was gone—" Did I mention the draenei sound kind of Russian when they speak? They do. Kind of.

"Ya gotta be kiddin' me," the voice of the guy she was arguing with sounded like someone out of Jersey Shore and I felt a tiny ping of hope in my chest. No way could it be…

I raced around the corner as he berated the draenei woman for losing track of me and nearly tackled the small goblin as I stooped down to hug him.

"Fizz!"

 


	19. Can't We All Just Get Along?

So apparently when I went all catatonic, Nicolas took it upon himself to write to Fizz and tell him that I could really use a buddy right about now. He got Fizz's full name from the letter he'd sent off with me. So as much as I hate to admit it, in this single case, Nicolas' annoying stalker-ish tendencies to go through other people's stuff paid off.

Well, it took a few days for the courier to get down to Booty Bay, but as soon as Fizz got the letter, he threw some stuff together and went up to Stormwind to get a portal to the Exodar.

Apparently, because he's not an Alliance mage, he doesn't get to learn the portals for the Alliance cities. Because I guess then the Horde might send their goblins in pretending to be neutral and then they'd be raiding the Alliance cities all the time or something. And vice versa or whatever.

Oh, and more reasons to be mad at Brath. Apparently the draenei have emissaries or ambassadors or something in Stormwind. So I didn't have to fly across an ocean. I mean, I might have eventually, but I could have opened a dialogue weeks earlier. Though…I guess they're like ambassadors to the human king, so maybe it would have taken me that long to fit myself into their schedule or something.

Look at me, making excuses so that Brath's manipulative, evil plan doesn't seem as detrimental to my attempts to save my world. I so need to get back at that dragon. Maybe get him a t-shirt that says, "I love hugs." I'm sure that'd upset him.

…Actually, that'd probably just get a bunch of people killed. Never mind. I'll figure something out. Retribution will be had.

Anyway. Back to portals.

The Alliance still let Fizz use theirs, though he's dropped more than a few blatant 'hints' that he had to pay  _a lot_  to come to my rescue.

I wonder if I have to pay him back for that…

Anyway. He got here during my exploration of the Exodar and gave the draenei a really hard time, even though they assured him I hadn't left the ship because all the guys at the exits knew to watch for me and that maybe I just needed time to myself.

Well, even though he's complained that I seem to be doing okay and all this other stuff, he's stuck around. He's a really good friend. And he's helping me look through the images of signs. There's a lot more of them than I thought there'd be. Like billboards and flyers and street signs…the draenei guy—Maevlen—didn't know what I was looking for in particular, so he pretty much just brought up all the old images for me to look at.

They're grisly. And at first I nearly threw up—I still almost do, sometimes—but I'm getting better at tuning out the bodies and just looking for words, or parts of words. Neesera has joined in and our little trio to be bugging Maevlen. He's still mapping things, you know?

No awesome news from my world yet. I'd love to say that when I looked at the pictures that they were of some northern country that had already fallen, but I haven't been able to tell so far. I'm not even sure that the signs are in English. I mean, there's a decent number of cars and multi-story buildings, so I'm thinking it's somewhere in Europe or something, but honestly, I could be way off. I don't know much about other cultures for starters. And then, I don't think I'm looking at like kanji or Arabic or anything, but with Fizz's translation spell, I can't be sure.

And as much as I want to ask him to remove it so that I can see if I can tell what language, I'm sort of worried that my body will somehow treat his spells like a virus. Like, it'll build up a higher resistance to the spell and he won't be able to cast it back on me. And then I'll be stuck without a way to communicate. Again.

So, like I said, no news on that front. I am working on it, though.

However, there has been a rather…ugh. I was gonna say 'strange turn of events', but strange isn't really the right word. I don't even know what to call it. Annoying? Stressful? Disastrous? Bad? Actually, possibly, slightly good?

The worst part is that, not that I would ever tell anyone, but part of me is really, really happy about it, too.

So. After a long day of trying not to throw up while I strained my eyes combing over those images, it was pretty easy for me to pass out. By the way, I'd been in the Exodar about eleven days at that point.

Well, in a way, working so hard is kind of nice. Even though the images haunt me, I've found that if I push myself really, really hard, then I sleep so soundly that I don't even dream. That's like the best thing ever, by the way. Because trust me, my dreams are all nightmares and they're so much worse, now that I've seen what actually happened to Earth.

But there is a down side of sleeping like the dead. People sneak up on you.

It was sometime in the night, but something disturbed me from my dreamless log-slumber, and suddenly images were flitting through my head. I was in those decimated streets, looking for people. And as I walked, my feet felt like they were sinking into the ground. It wasn't until I was up to my waist in this gross muck that the bodies started moving and reaching toward me. I panicked and tried to push them away, but they whispered that I belonged with them and their boney fingers grabbed at me.

Just as I was managing to pull myself out of the street and tried to run, one of the skeletons grabbed me around the waist. With a cry, I snapped awake and tried to sit upright in bed. But I couldn't.

Something really was around my waist.

Well, in my half-awakeness, I just knew it was a corpse. However, even as I went to claw at the well toned muscles, I heard a soft, condescending laugh that I had been pretty sure I'd never hear again.

Rolling over as best I could, I saw that Brath was lying next to me, in human form, with his arms around my waist. I wanted to skin me a dragon. Still do.

Even as I shot up and away from him—more because he was a guy than because he was a Brath—he finally let me go and I basically propelled myself off the bed and onto the floor. I don't know if I hadn't actually screamed out loud or if Fizz had just somehow slept through it—the inn is basically like several rooms with several beds in each and ours had four, by the way. I always think about medieval times when I think about Azeroth, but in ways they're more advanced, right? Like, it's not overly scandalous for a guy and a girl to share a room, at least so long as there's multiple beds. And we aren't the only ones in the inn, either, so it's sort of like, you stick with your friends? If that makes sense. Now if me and Fizz were snuggling up in the same bed, people might ask questions, but we don't so…yeah.

Oh, and apparently interspecies relationships are, while not common, not unheard of either. When I tried asking about genetics and stuff and how I didn't see how say a draenei and a goblin could have kids, they just stared at me blankly and said love wasn't just about reproduction.

I guess that's common sense, but…yeah. I dunno why, but I'd just sort of assumed that, well, I feel kinda racist, but, wouldn't a draenei be more interested in like horns and tails and stuff? And humans and goblins and whatever else is out there don't have those at all? Or like, a troll would be interested in tusks and neon hair, which tauren do not have.

Maybe I'm still thinking on too physical a level.

But it's not  _that_  bad that I was surprised, right? Because there's only the one species on my world. And you know, the sentient species in Azeroth are literally different species, like cats vs. water buffalo.

I feel so horribly closed-minded when I think about it. At least I learned that now, before I meet some odd-by-my-standards couple, like a troll/gnome pairing—I actually know what both of those are, thanks to that species guide—and gawk at them or something.

Anyway, so off topic. When I thudded to the floor, it woke Fizz up. However, even as he tried to get his eyes to open the same amount and figure out if he needed to be tossing fire balls around or not, Brath leaned over, resting his chin on the edge of the bed as he stared down at me.

"You look surprised to see me." His eyes seemed to almost glow in the dim light. "I left you a note; surely the draenei are honorable enough to have given it to you?"

While I admit that I had been wishing he'd show up, I was hoping that the next time I saw him would be when he walked through a door or something. Not curled up with me in bed.

Remember how he reads facial expressions really well? He got this amused light in his eyes and slid off the bed to sit in front of me, tilting his head and faking this innocent look. "You did read my note, didn't you?" His voice had this mock hurt tone to it. When I didn't respond immediately, his grin widened, showing off his pronounced canines.

"The one that called me dumb for freeing you?" I hissed, trying to play off that maybe I had read it. It's amazing how in just a few short days I could forget how much smarter Brath is than I am. Or maybe I'm just too easy to read.

"The one that reminded you that Nicolas has been assigned to assassinate all black dragons and that so long as I was merely a mount I was hardly a dot on his page, but that once I was free I was bound to become a priority? The one that said I was heading to visit his employer and see if I couldn't convince him to give me a stay of execution." He abruptly reached out and hugged me to him and I heard Fizz hissing something behind me as Brath added, "Since I've taken on so noble a cause, my request was granted, by the way. Consider me your man."

Okay, so, pretty sure he was throwing a double meaning in there and I have to wonder if he tried some crap excuse to whoever he was talking to about being in love or something. I really hope he didn't. If he went to see Nicolas' employer, then that guy is going to have to tell Nicolas to back off and with my luck he'll tell him why.

And despite whatever ruse Brath pulled off, pretty much everyone who talks to him for more than three minutes knows he's evil, so I really don't want to give Nicolas a reason to start turning people against me, saying I'm an evil dragon's girlfriend.

…

Well, I can honestly say that of all my concerns in high school, I never thought that would be one of them. Life is just full of surprises, isn't it?

I should probably explain what was going on as I had a temporary freak out moment that Brath was probably spreading unsavory rumors about me. It wasn't hard to figure out that I was not loving Brath's touchy-feely actions and Fizz pretty much tried to smack Brath in the head with his staff to get him away from me. However, Brath just caught it, wrenched it from his grip, and tossed it back into Fizz, warning him that if he tried it again, he'd impale him with it. Apparently his fondness and humor only perseveres through  _my_  attacks.

Brath is so good at making friends.

Well, he did release me and stand back up and about that time one of the guards who generally slept in the inn—I guess they sleep in really weird places in general, instead of just having their own homes, so that if there's a raid on the city, they're already there to defend civilians—came up and asked if everything was okay.

Well, Brath was quick to announce with flourish that he was back to save the world and that just depressed the guard, since everyone already knew my world was dead. Which is, in retrospect, probably why Brath said that.

Anyway, so…yeah. I now have my goblin and my dragon back with me, even if they aren't talking to each other and if Fizz is temporarily—I hope—giving me the silent treatment for not immediately setting the guards on Brath for being as evil as he is. And Brath is mad at me because I suggested that he could let Fizz ride him, too, and apparently that is out of the question.

I guess he's a one person mount.

But! I am trying to stay positive here. I have people willing to help me, even if they don't get along. And, legendary heroes who are willing to back me up in my valiant quest to save the day. …After they finish  _their_  valiant quest to save the day.

Now all I need to do is prove that there's still a world to save.


	20. Brainstorming

Well, I have sort of good news. One of the cities is Paris. Not that I want that city to be destroyed, but at least I've heard of that place. I mean, sure, it could be Paris, Illinois, for all I know, but I don't think it is—in case you're wondering how I even know that Paris, Illinois exists, what happened was my family went up to visit my grandparents in Illinois one year when I was little and as we were driving down the highway, my parents were all like, "Amy, look! It's Paris!" And being the moronic nine year old that I was, I totally thought we'd somehow made it to France and I was super excited. My entire family laughed for me for a week after that. I'm too gullible…

Anyway, I think this is Paris, France, because I think I saw a broken Eiffel Tower, but it got pretty flattened, so it's hard to say for sure. I guess all that mangled metal could be something else…

And it gets worse. I have no clue if the window is heading east, west, north, or south from that city. I tried triangulating light or whatever, but that was just a big failure. I mean, Maevlen tried to make me feel better by saying that with the cloud cover it's hard to tell and that even he had problems figuring out where the sun was during the different images, but…yeah. They could be looking at cities in another country by now and I wouldn't know it. They haven't crossed an ocean yet, though. I know France at least has a west coast…

But, in a way, this is sort of good. Because France—or Illinois—is above the equator, right? So for all we know, the Legion got held up in Mexico or even Texas—they have a lot of guns there, right?—or…or…I'm really bad at geography and don't know what's south of France. I wish I had google here. I'd just look up a world map. And then I could look up the other cities' names and get a sense of direction.

I so miss the internet.

Anyway, Fizz is awesome—and not mad at me anymore—and practical. Early on, he asked me what I planned to do, even if we found out that we were looking at the very  _first_  cities to fall—which by now we know we aren't, but that's not the point. After all, this is just essentially a looking glass, right?

That did kind of get me down. I mean, so what if we can see people are alive if we can't get to them?

Well, I wanted to cross that hurdle before we came to it, because I don't want to find people and be like, 'yay,' and then have them die off as we try to figure out how to communicate with them. I prodded Maevlen—he's never going to get his job done so long as I'm around and I do feel bad about that, but still…there are lives to be saved, I hope—and he said he supposed they might be able to convert the window into a legit portal and send something through to my world, if they really focused the power or something, but that it would destroy my goggles and that would be detrimental to their intel gathering. I told you that they're using the window to try to gather data on the Legion, didn't I? Well, in case I didn't, they are.

Back on topic…

So. I don't get magic, but it comes really close to science here, which I am decent at. I admit, I'm making some assumptions, but…whatever. Think of it this way. You know how scientists say that protons and electrons are always moving, ever so slightly? In essence, everything, and I mean  _ev-er-y-thing_ , is moving. Always.

This movement creates energy. Duh. However, particles from one world move differently than particles from another world. That's why, even though I'm human, I'm ever so slightly different from the humans of this world, a.k.a. my magic resistance.

Because my goggles were made from minerals and stuff from my world, it moves the same as anything else in my world. So what they did was they used my goggles to sort of throw out feelers into the universe or something to find a world that mirrored that same energy.

Oh, and the energy emitted from stuff is apparently what determines whether a world can use magic. I got kind of lost during that explanation, but I don't feel so bad, because it was Fizz and Maevlen tossing ideas back and forth and getting really excited, but Neesera looked as confused as I was.

Neesera is a shaman, by the way. That means she's like spiritual or something. When I asked if that was like a priest, she said sort of. And, she can hear the voice of the earth. When I told her that Brath said the earth hurt, she told me that he was being manipulated by old gods who were making the earth's pain to begin with. I wonder if I explained that to Brath, if he'd stop trying to kill everyone…

He's being useless, by the way. At first, I brought him along to help look through the images, but he kept being a jerk and saying stuff like, "Is that a live person I see there? There in the corner? Peeking out of the building?"

I'm ashamed to say that it took eight times before I stopped getting my hopes up and realized he was just being mean. Neesera and the others stopped looking after the third time proved to be him drawing our attention to a particularly mangled body hanging out of a tree.

So, Brath has kind of been banished to the inn. I'm sure the inn keeper loves us for that, but…we had to do something and the stable master refused to let him stay up there—I wonder what he did to upset that guy so much…especially since it seems hard to make draenei hate anything, aside from the Legion. They're like an entire species of saints.

Anyway, my point from earlier is that the goggles are keeping the window open, but if we made it a full portal, it would use up the goggles' energy and then there would be nothing left to keep the window open, so we'd lose the connection. Further, the portal wouldn't last more than a second or two, so we wouldn't be able to get anyone through it. And it would probably go one way—though, I guess that's what most portals do?

I asked if they could use my clothes from my world to make a second one, but they'd already tossed those out. And even if they hadn't, my clothes were so dirty with grime from this world, that it wouldn't have been a pure enough sample. When I offered to let them use me, since you know, I'm bound to have more energy than a pair of goggles, they said that it would probably kill me and they weren't going to throw my life away on some slim chance.

Back to what Fizz was asking. Knowing that this camera was just that, what would I do if I could find out where this is?

My thoughts were that maybe we could use their magic-y abilities to speed up the window's traveling and have it go south. And if we find people, then we can use that second long portal to throw them some kind of message. Something that would tell them that we could help, you know?

Well, how are they going to respond to us if the portal's gone, right? That got me thinking. If we could send them a message, we could explain how the portals worked. And if we need something from my world, then they would need something from this world. But what?

Duh, the message itself. The paper itself or maybe even a little box or something.

But then, we don't have magic in my world, so how would they send it back?

I admit, I was at a loss there. And the others seemed kind of down by it. Like, they're not asking me these questions to discourage me, you know? It's just that if we're gonna do something, we need to think it through. And it needs to be foolproof if we're gonna get the vindicators to back us up and let us destroy their one way to spy on the Legion.

So, about noon, I was feeling kind of down, so I decided to try to brainstorm elsewhere for a little bit—since there wouldn't be a new picture for another forty minutes, I figured I wouldn't miss if we found life. Fizz stayed to help Maevlen try to play catch up—and Neesera had had to go back to her engineering shop to do some orders of spare parts for adventurers. I headed back to the inn and found that Brath was already sprawled out, face down on his own bed—it took me hours to convince him that I didn't need a cuddle-buddy, by the way, and to use his own bed—and it occurred to me that amoral people probably have a bigger arsenal of 'maybes'. Like, Fizz won't say, "Maybe x would work," because it could hurt someone. But Brath…

Well, I trotted over and kind of nudged him to see if he was awake. And then nudged him harder to wake him up. And he still didn't. I was just considering yanking that long, flowing hair of his—I'm still bitter that he cut mine—but he abruptly rolled over, caught my arm, and pulled me on top of him. Well, he tried to do that anyway. He misjudged how much force he would need and I ended up just sitting next to him while he held my arm.

However, I was on a mission and for once I managed to keep from getting flustered or angered by his dumb antics. "You dragons are all into magic and stuff, right?"

"Why do I get the impression you have mistaken me for a mage?" Brath released my arm and seemed irritated that his latest attempt to make someone uncomfortable had failed.

"I don't need a mage's advice; I need yours."

Well, that got him interested. He sat up and leaned against his knees. "What ever for?"

"I wanted to ask you a bit about portals—"

"Again, I fear a mage would do better at solving your dilemma."

I stopped to eye him for a minute. Why did he have to be so difficult? While I considered threatening him that I was gonna send a letter to that guy who wanted all of the dragons dead, I decided against it. Not because I didn't want to see Brath nervous, but because I didn't know who I'd be writing to and Brath would know that and call my bluff and the whole thing would just leave me angry.

"But all the mages I know have morals," I tried to argue. I snapped my mouth shut and nearly bit my tongue when Brath gave me this look. I can't even describe it right. It wasn't exactly offended, but he wasn't completely amused, either. It was like a combination of both.

"My dear lady, I have a very strong sense of right and wrong," Brath put a hand over his heart, as though he were trying to stop an open cut from bleeding, his fingers curling into the fabric of his robe, "If I know it's right, I try not to do it."

I stared at him. "By that logic, since you think the world is suffering and needs to be destroyed, you shouldn't destroy it." Well, that brought me a frown that warmed the cockles of my heart. "Anyway. Look, I have generic magic questions. I bet you can answer them." When he didn't answer, I decided to just ask. The worst he could do was keep up his silence. And maybe talking about my questions out loud would help. "So. In theory, if we find people, we can use my goggles to send them a message, right? But to send one back, they'd need to make their own portal, and there's no magic in my world—"

"So you want to send an isolated pocket of magic to your world with hopes they can use it?" Brath arched his eyebrows.

For maybe a fifth of a second, I wanted to kiss him. You know, before I remembered he was Brath. "Is that easy to do?"

"I am not sure how many times I must impress upon you that I am not a mage."

I hugged him. "Well, I'll leave you to…" I paused. What had he been doing before? "…staring at your pillow or whatever." Even as I made it to the door he'd started to protest, so I turned around and pointed at him. "Right now, you are here to help my world. Well, you're helping by not making the draenei angry, okay? So keep up the good work."

I didn't pay attention to his mumblings as I headed off to find Fizz. It was time to go back to brainstorming.


	21. Through the Looking Glass

Fizz could see that I was up to something when I started asking him if there was a way to create isolated pockets of magic and then trigger them using non magical means—because even if we could send the pockets over, it'd be useless if Fizz was the one who needed to activate it, right?

That look he gave me…I could have been plotting the downfall of his civilization.

Anyway, my trip to see Brath hadn't lasted long at all, so when I go back, it'd barely been any time at all. Sometimes I think that, with all this morbid stuff I'm forcing myself to do, that Fizz and the others think I'm a glutton for punishment. I'm not, really.

Maevlen had gone on a lunch break, so it was just perfect timing. I was harassing Fizz about pockets of magics and spells and stuff—it's not that I don't trust Maevlen, it's just…well, he works for the vindicators and I don't want him tipping them off that their window might not be around too much longer if I can help it—when Fizz asked me, if my world had no magic, how they would have the energy to trigger the spell, even if he could make one.

"Charge a bunch of electrical stuff at once." Granted, I wasn't considering that maybe power grids would be out, but still. What better way to get a bunch of energy, right?

Well, when he saw that I had an answer on the tip of my tongue, I guess it occurred to him that other humans would think of that just as quickly and he paused and glanced around, like he thought someone might be eavesdropping. "Look. There's—lean down, would ya?" I squatted down in front of him so I could look him in the eyes. He lowered his voice and I got the feeling that we were discussing something illegal. "I may have a spell like what ya talkin' about." He clamped a hand over my mouth as I started to cheer. "Listen, the draenei are very against destroyin' this window. Ya said the Legion's invisible in ya world and they wanna know how they're able to do that. Do ya get it? If we send a message through, we destroy their chance of findin' out."

"Unless someone responds."

"I'm sorry, kid, but ya realize that's unlikely, yeah?" He motioned toward the window. "Even if we do get a message through, what's to say one of those invisible demons don't get it? I mean," he looked at the image himself. "We could be starin' at twenty felguards right now. Maybe the only reason they're lettin' us see this is to rub the draenei's noses in their failure."

"Then we use their arrogance against them." I admit, I'm pretty sure that's from a movie. I just wanted to inspire a bit of confidence, not that it worked. I frowned when Fizz got that look that implied he felt like he was talking to a brick wall. "Look, I really appreciate all the draenei have done for me, but I don't think they realize how big my world is. They've covered a few hundred miles, maybe. There are thousands and thousands of miles to go. And…people always say that humans are resilient and adaptive," I paused when he stared at me like I was losing it. "We're hard to kill. So give us a chance. If you have something—"

"Alright, alright." Fizz paused and glanced around. His ears perked up and I realized he must have heard the hoof-steps of someone coming over. "Just…write ya message and figure out what we're sendin' it in, okay?"

I have to say, I've been on a roll since my breakdown. Even as he said that, it occurred to me that I needed a way to make sure I was writing a message in a language people would understand. With my luck, I'd be writing in goblin or draenic and then whoever got my note in my world wouldn't have a clue what to do.

"Fizz, can you make me a hardcopy of one of those signs?" When he stared at me blankly, I frowned. "Can you put those images onto a piece of paper for me?" I respond to whatever language I hear with the language I need, so I thought maybe it would be the same for writing.

Fizz didn't respond. Instead, he offered a quick wave, looking over my shoulder. "Maevlen! Welcome back."

Maevlen sighed and nodded. Poor guy. If we succeed in getting a message through, I wonder if he'll get in trouble for us destroying the window. I'll stick up for him if they try to blame him. It's the least I can do.

Well, even as I stood up, Maevlen held up a hand. "I am sorry, Amy, but would you mind taking the rest of the day off?" When I gave him a horrified look, he apologetically motioned toward the shimmery image of my world. "I am falling behind. I need to find the demons and see what magic they use to conceal themselves." He patted my head, his huge palm practically covering all of it. "I will work hard today to catch up and you can come back tomorrow, yes?"

I wanted to argue, but Fizz caught my attention and shook his head. "Okay. If you find any people, come get me, okay?"

Maevlen looked pained as he nodded and turned to his work.

When we were outside of the building, Fizz rummaged through his stuff and then held up a piece of paper. It had a few shakily written words on it. As I took it from him, I noted how it looked like he'd tried to make a capital J with a single swipe of the pen, which left the top little bar looking really weird—though the letter was recognizable…for the first time since I'd come to Azeroth, I didn't have a strange nagging in the back of my mind that I shouldn't have understood what I was looking at. Even when I looked at all the signs from my world, I'd felt like whatever they were saying should have been foreign to me, but I guess since French uses the same alphabet, that's why I could finally recognize the J. That made me feel even more hopeful.

Fizz shrugged. "I was curious about ya language, so I've been tryin' my hand at writin' it. No clue what they say, but they're copies of some of ya world's words."

He'd copied down an advertisement from a hair salon's window. I hugged him and he batted me away, going through his bags again to get me a pen and blank paper. "Go work on ya letter. Remember to include somethin' about the spell and needin' energy."

I blinked. "Where are you going?"

"To take a break from all this depressin' stuff," he paused and eyed me. "Not that I don't wanna help, but everybody needs to rest from time to time. …That includes ya, ya know."

Well, after Fizz was gone, it occurred to me that the draenei might have already figured out that our interests were on the verge of clashing—they wanted that window opened, I wanted a portal—so they might be watching me for signs that I was going to screw them over. So, instead of immediately rushing to the inn and plopping down to write my letter while Brath no doubt harassed me and made sure it wouldn't be understandable, I wandered around for a little bit. I thought about going to the quietest corner in the Exodar I could find to write without fear of hearing draenic or draconic, but then they'd probably find that suspicious.

So instead, I went to Neesera's shop. When I walked in, she looked up and smiled, the upper half of her face covered by some weird goggles—like something you'd see in an eighties or early nineties sci-fi movie—with her long curly hair bunched up around the strap.

She was a draenei, but she was also my friend, you know? Not that Maevlen wasn't, but…still. So I appraised her for a minute and then trotted over and explained my crazy plan. She was quiet for a long, long time before finally walking to the back corner of her shop and moving a few boxes. "You can write here."

I perked up and followed after her. "So…you're not gonna report me to the guards or anything? You'll let me try to get a message through?"

Neesera leaned against one of the crates near the seat she'd cleared for me. "Honestly, why should I not? If the demons have found new power, we will find it when we find them. I have spent time thinking on this, and I think perhaps their invisibility is much more basic than people fear. I think, we will not have trouble fighting them. And it is more important to save the lives we can, yes?"

I grinned and nodded. However, the whole problem with hearing other languages occurred to me and I asked her if I should come back later when she was out running errands and the shop would be closed—not that I wanted to wait, but I didn't want to screw up, either. Well, she set a few gadgets in motion so that their gears and stuff would drown out any casual conversations of people passing by. She went about her work on another scrapbot, a much smaller one, and I set to writing my note.

At first, I was a little worried. Like, if this was a sign from France, it was probably in French, right? What if I ended up sending my note to a Spanish speaking country? Or any country where French wasn't the main language? I don't want to sound whiny or anything, but I really wish it could have been an English sign. So many people across the world know that language, right? So it'd increase my chances of whoever found it being able to read it.

Why couldn't I have been one of those prodigy children who excelled at linguistics or something? Would they be able to understand it even if it  _was_  a language from my world?

And then, what if, because it's a language from my world and not Azeroth, the translation spell doesn't work and I screw up what I'm trying to say anyway?

I've had an odd sort of luck, though. Like stumbling through a portal, falling forever and then still making it to Azeroth. And getting to the draenei even though it was with the help of a crazy dragon. So I figured that I'd bank on that luck that I would write it out successfully and that whoever got it would understand it.

I tried to avoid any of the less common words, anyway, so that if whatever language I was writing in was their second language and they weren't great with it, they'd be more likely to understand. I explained that there would be a spell with this note that would need lots of energy to activate and that it would create a tiny, flash of a portal for them to respond. I told them to send something from our world through so that we could send something back. Open a dialogue, so to speak. And on dialogue, I told them to write in whatever language they were most comfortable with. No need for them to struggle with French and not be able to get their message back to us, right? Because I may be able to understand languages, but I still have trouble if it's been written/spoken poorly. I know this because Fizz is trying to learn draenic.

I also said that I had found people who had fought the demons and that they would help us, but it was important we proved there were still people to help. When I was done, I read it over a few times for spelling errors, couldn't find any, and then went over to Neesera to let her know I was done. As she went about turning off all the noise, I headed out to find Fizz. However, Neesera stopped me when I was at the door. I turned around and she reached out and took my note from me. For a split second, I was terrified that she had lied about helping me, but instead, her brilliant gaze focused on the words I'd written.

A little off topic, but I really wonder how their eyes work. I mean, they're so, so bright, right? You'd think you'd see the light gleaming through their eyelids, but when they close their eyes, they look like they could be normal. And their eyelids don't look thicker than a human's or anything. It's really weird. I wonder if they ever have trouble sleeping in well lit areas, or if their light eyes counter the outside light and neutralize it?

Anyway, after a few minutes of inspecting the paper with a narrow gaze, she handed it back to me and smiled. "I do not understand a word of it." When I just stared blankly at her, she laughed. "You were worried of switching languages, yes?" She tapped the note in my hand. "This looks, to me, to be in the same language through and through, and it is nothing I understand."

Even as I thanked her and admitted that I hadn't thought to check on that, she held up one of her scrapbots, the one she'd been working on while I was there, and flipped open its stomach. She'd emptied out all of its gears. "Put your note in here, yes? Then they will have something of this world to focus their portal through."

I have to say that my friends here are amazing. Not only Neesera, but all of them.

It turns out that Fizz didn't spend his day lounging around. Instead, he made that spell he was talking about. And I'm not sure, and neither of them will probably ever admit it, but I think he got Brath to help him, even if it was just holding something while Fizz figured out how to get things to work. They just both looked kind of proud—Brath was trying to hide it, though.

Anyway, when I went back to the inn to drop off my scrapbot and read up a bit more on the species of Azeroth, he hopped up on my bed and held out this little orb. Brath was already passed out on one of the spare beds in our room. He seemed to sleep a lot, now that he wasn't welcome to join us. I was kind of worried that he wasn't feeling well, but I wasn't about to ask and have him say some stupid remark about me 'fretting over his health' or something like that. And he did get up to watch us show off our toys.

Anyway, when I showed Fizz the scrapbot, the goblin grinned and tapped he little glowing ball of magic. "Release a bunch of energy into this and they should be able to open a portal here. Just make sure this is on whatever it is that it's using as a portal focus and that whatever is coming through is pretty much on top of that."

I paused to add that to my note and had Fizz check it over. I think Brath wanted to be included too. It's really weird, because he normally seems to prefer screw things up, right? But even as I was rewriting a few words, he tapped the page a little further down so that I would see there was another one that needed changing. I hope whoever gets the note doesn't think I'm lying about being from their world. Maybe they'll just assume its Russian or something.

Another odd thing. Brath actually waited until I was finished to start talking. And then it was all sorts of questions. Had we found someone? Would we be going to my world soon? Should he start guilt tripping the vindicators into rallying their forces to come after us?

When my response was, "No, no, and no," he seemed kind of disappointed.

Well, since he was up, Fizz decided to find somewhere else to be, since he can't stand Brath. He keeps asking me why don't we just send Brath off to pay for whatever horrible crimes he probably did. I don't have a real answer for that, you know? So I always mutter something about dragon claws seeming like they'd work well in a non-magical world against demons. I don't think Fizz is buying it.

But it's not like I'm trying to hide anything, so…meh. Whatever.

Well, Fizz headed off to check the auction house and I wanted, more than anything, to run over to the window and tell Maevlen to find some people so I could send my message. It was hard to sit around and do nothing, you know? Here I had this beacon of hope in my hands and I couldn't even use it yet. I might never get the chance, either, at the rate that dumb window goes. Especially if it's heading north.

I was all sorts of fidgety and couldn't concentrate on what was written in my species guide, so Brath did quite possibly the first honestly nice thing ever for me. He suggested we head up to the island and take a walk, to get our minds off things.

I don't know what his mind was on that needed distracting, but I knew I could use something. And at the rate the window was going, I wouldn't miss my chance to send my message, right?

Well, I insisted on leaving a message for Fizz or Maevlen or whoever else might come by needing me for something—hope against hope, right?—and Brath fell back into his usual antics. When I tried to write, he'd whisper stuff from different languages in my ear and I nearly gouged out one of his eyes with my pen. Not that I was trying to. I was trying to wave him off and the pen was in my hand and I hit him in the eyebrow with it.

Then he wouldn't shut up about how horribly abusive I was.

When I gave up writing and just told the inn keeper that we'd be wandering the island for a bit—she started to tell me to be careful and then changed it to, "You make sure that dragon takes care of you, yes?"—Brath told her that I was beating him. She didn't believe him, but still.

I think she probably figures the same thing I do: if Brath really felt threatened he'd just go dragon mode and it would be game over for whatever pissed him off. A little off topic, one of the guards tried to intimidate Brath once for doing something, I don't remember what, and he just laughed at him. And not because 'intimidating' draenei are still super polite. The guy had kind of towered over him and I think it amused Brath to no end that 'the silly mortal' thought being bigger than his human guise meant something.

Well, it was nice to get away from all that blinding light and see that there was still a world with pine tree-like trees and bushes that vaguely reminded me of stuff from my world. And you know, with birds chirping and cricket-type things making those bug noises, when I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine that I was out camping with my family. Any second, my dad would be offering me a s'more and I'd complain that I was trying to stay in shape and my mom would yell at me that I look fine and a single treat won't make me gain ten pounds. Ha. And Greg would probably join in, complaining that I was complaining all while muttering that he wanted his computer.

I suddenly didn't want to open my eyes, because I knew that it'd all go away the second I did, you know? I'd see Brath and those plants I couldn't name. Even if it wasn't real, even if it was only for a minute, I wanted my reality back.

"Amy."

It took effort to will my eyes open and when I did I saw that Brath was a little ways ahead of me on the path—Brath might be able to fend for himself, but the woods were crawling with wild animals and I didn't want to get eaten by one as he dealt with another. He'd stopped and was watching me, like he wanted to ask me something.

I frowned, annoyed that it had been him and not my dad who'd called my name. "What?"

My tone was snappier than I'd meant it to be.

Brath simply mirrored my expression and walked back to me. "Isn't there something that can be done to expedite this little adventure?"

"I'm sorry?"

His frown deepened as he leaned toward me. "Why do you always apologize when you don't understand my words?" I just shrugged. He was irritating me. Well, it wasn't really him. I just…after thinking about my family, I felt like I was gonna cry again and I'd been doing so well about that. When he realized that was all the answer he was gonna get, he cracked his neck slowly. The look on his face made it clear he was trying to figure out how to dumb down what he'd said so that even little me could understand.

For some reason that really made me angry. Misdirected anger, probably. Not that that helped.

"I am…on a limited schedule, if you will," he spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. "And I was hoping we could do something to get to your world, sooner than later."

"Why? If you're idle too long, is that guy gonna send Nicolas after you?"

I had meant it as a joke, you know? And it was a bitchy thing to say, even as a joke, but I was just… I have plenty of excuses, though they don't make it any better. Anyway, even when I said that, he gave me this look and I realized that I was dead on.

So, on top of my world, if I don't find a way to save it soon, I'm gonna loose Brath, too.

Memories are so weird, you know? Like I know that the birds and bugs had to have kept going, even after that realization, but I can remember it being so quiet. Like the world stopped to see what would happen.

Finally, I told him, "Look. Can't you…explain to him that we aren't just sitting around? I mean, we're looking for people and when we find them—"

"The problem is, I am not needed for that," Brath replied. "I need something that I can do to help. Proof of my goodwill, if you would."

Well, I know that he's just doing this to save himself, but I realized that I want to save him, too. So I tried to think. Something that would be really good for a dragon to do. Everything I could think of really involved us already being in my world and when I offered that he'd helped me with brainstorming, he'd seemed disinterested in claiming credit for something 'so trite'.

That I couldn't think of anything put me in a worse mood and I finally just turned around on the path and told him we needed to head back. Maybe I'm bipolar. I mean, I was so happy and then I was just not.

Or maybe this whole thing is just finally taking its toll on me. I don't know.

But, when we got back to the city, we were walking by the stables when one of the griffons let out this whine. So, I'm gonna say that I guess animals have languages of their own. I can't understand them—I guess even Fizz's spell has its limits—but Brath's head snapped toward the creature and he watched it ruffle its feathers and claw at the ground for a minute before the stable master hurried over and herded it back to its pen.

Oh, you might be wondering, but there are a few other adventurers around. I tried talking to this dwarf guy, but well...apparently sober dwarfs are not very agreeable and something had happened to his stash, leaving him with nothing for like half his trip here? And he was on his way to the tavern when I stopped him to say hi, so…yeah. He's not too fond of me. Or maybe he is now, but I avoid him anyway. But there's a few people around and that's what keeps the stable master busy.

And I guess that griffon belonged to one of the adventurers.

Back on topic…not that I really want to go there.

You see…

Argh. Just argh. And the why makes it so much worse. And I can't explain to people why I'm angry without incriminating myself…

So, we were walking past the stables and the griffon makes that stupid noise. I really hate griffons. And all of a sudden, Brath spins around, catches me by my waist, and kisses me.

First kiss.

No romance. Didn't even have a chance to be nervous, like they do in the movies. Didn't have a chance to register that his lips tasted kind of sweet, or that I felt kind of safe in his arms, or that I might have liked the way his stubble brushed against my face. I didn't, by the way. I don't like anything about that stupid dragon.

And then he just let me go and walked off. And left me there. Jaw dropped and not sure what the heck was going on as a few draenei eyed me. I guess public shows of affection are a little weird to them.

You know what? It was weird for me, too, so I just glared at them and started toward the inn, or at least a different part of the city where people hadn't just seen me make out with a psychopath. Well, I mean, we didn't make out—and I so don't want to—but…

Argh.

Argh, argh, argh, argh, argh. Argh.

Well, I was originally going to go back to the inn, but then it occurred to me that Brath had probably headed there and I never wanted to see him again. Maybe.

Anyway, so I decided I'd go check out the auction house, since Fizz seemed pretty invested in it and always spoke about how you could turn a profit there. Maybe start my own war fund or something, if I could figure out how it worked.

Well, just as I got to the entrance, I heard a stern voice call out, "Miss Ford?"

So I turned around and guess who I ran into? The one and only mean draenei in existence. Well, I suppose he's not mean, but…he's not nice either. His armor was really shiny, so I took that as a sign that he was important. And I'd been in the Exodar long enough to recognize a vindicator when I saw one.

When it finally dawned on me that he and his four cronies were waiting for an answer, I said that yes, I was me. And then he asked if I wanted to go somewhere more out of the way to talk. I didn't want to be rude, so I went with them. And they surrounded me and led me off to this part of the ship/city that I wasn't as familiar with. And then, when we were in what I guess was his office or whatever, he turned and finally started talking again.

"Losing a world can be devastating," his words sounded practiced and mechanical, "and we do not wish to meddle in your grieving. However, it has come to my attention that you are hoping to make contact with your world."

Uh oh.

I think I got a deer-in-the-headlights expression because all of them looked kind of grim. "Miss Ford, we have seen the images of your world. There is nothing left. Nothing but the demons, assuming that they have not moved on by now. If they are using magics we are unfamiliar with, it would be best to learn of them now, so that we are not at a disadvantage whenever next we meet them in battle. To destroy our chances at learning of our enemy to try to contact a dead race would be…pointless."

I couldn't even begin to think of anything to say to that. Sensing my loss for words, he continued. "I believe your reaching this world is nothing short of a miracle of the Light and we would not turn you away. You are welcome to make your home here and we do not expect you to take up arms and join our battles. We realize you are a civilian and…."

He kept talking. About how Azeroth was a good world, how I could find a place for myself here, how he understood that grief came in stages. I know the stages of grief, too. I'm not in denial.

Am I?

Has this whole endeavor, getting Fizz and the others to stare for hours at mangled corpses while trying to find bits of street signs and store front windows been a huge coping mechanism? And where would that leave Brath? He has to save my world or Nicholas will kill him.

Even as I started panicking that something was going to happen to my dragon, that that awkward kiss would be the last time I'd ever see him or something, a knock from behind me interrupted the guy lecturing me and jolted me to my senses.

Maevlen.

He stepped into the room, a resigned look on his pale blue features. "The window has been spent."


	22. Mind Blown

"The window has been spent."

"What?" The vindicator guy echoed my own thoughts.

With a strained sigh, Maevlen shrugged his shoulders, looking somewhat like a defeated mountain. "I do not know if we simply misjudged the amount of energy in the focus or if the demons finally found it and destroyed it. However, it is gone." He paused before adding, "I will continue to see if perhaps there is some sign of what they did to become invisible present in the information already gathered."

Well, even as I tried to understand that the sole connection to my world was  _gone_ , the vindicator leader guy started swearing up and down and I have to say that just broke my reality further. Draenei know how to curse? Really?

You'd think it'd be like the bane of their existence. Like, they'd say a single damn and go up in smoke. Or something.

Anyway, his language was waaaaay too inappropriate to repeat, so we'll just say he was unhappy. And his minions were unhappy. And I just kinda sat there while they interrogated poor Maevlen and he politely explained that the window had started flickering and even as he went to see if he could stabilize it, it blinked out of existence. And my goggles were now a pile of dust, so there was no repairing it.

Unless they used me. No one said that, but it was my thought, not that I wanted to be the focal point of a window now that I knew it could disintegrate me. But if it would save my world…save Brath….

Anyway, it felt like forever before Mr. Vindicator grumbled that the two of us could leave—really, he'd pretty much forgotten about me until Maevlen asked if he should walk me back to the inn.

The walk back was pretty dreary, for me anyway. As I thought of my family and how now I really wasn't ever going to see them again—ever—Maevlen tapped my shoulder and motioned with his head toward a more secluded part of the ship. "Perhaps a drink would make you feel better?"

Alcohol? Me?

Why the frick not?

What was the worst that could happen? The cops from my 'dead race' hopping dimensions to arrest me? Try to enforce our laws on Maevlen? 'Our' laws didn't even exist anymore because everyone was dead. Everyone but me.

Well, I was in tears, but I managed a nod and Maevlen led me over to an out of the way tavern. That dwarf was at the bar, a mug in each hand and I wanted, for no reason in particular, to kick his stool out from under him. I didn't.

Maevlen led me over to an out of the way table near the back and I slumped into a chair as he went and got us drinks. He was gone forever, but when he got back he set a mug in front of me and scooted his chair over so that he was sitting beside me. "Amy—"

"How could I be such a colossal failure?" I burst into sobs, crossing my arms over the table and leaning my head against them.

He patted my shoulder gently. "Amy—"

"I mean," I lifted my head. "I made it here, didn't I? I traveled freakin' dimensions! Successfully! So how did I mess up? Where did I go wrong? Should I have brought someone else with me?" Would that have made a difference? "I didn't want anyone else to get hurt if it backfired…." Like that mattered now. I cried harder.

"Amy." Maevlen was leaning down next to me, trying to be quiet about something. "You…you're really crying." I glared at him, wondering how he could be surprised by that, and Maevlen's brow pinched together. "He didn't tell you?"

I don't think  _I_  even understood my blubbery response, though it was basically asking what he was talking about.

He frowned and whispered as low as he possibly could. "The window is gone because I sent your message."

I stared at him, a hiccupped sniffle preceding the only word I could manage. "What?"

He gave me this look like I was hopeless and half smiled as he patted my shoulder again. "I sent your message through. That's what collapsed the window." When he saw my tears were too confused to fall, he added, "Now, I don't know that it made it all the way to your world, or if anyone will find it, but—"

"You found people?"

With a frown, he shook his head. However, before he could speak, I felt my earlier despair being replaced with horrified disbelief. "You sent…the one message we could send…to a dead part of the world?"

"Amy, it was the only chance we had." Maevlen paused and glanced around, before pushing my mug toward me. "Drink and try to keep looking depressed."

I clasped the mug without thinking, though I didn't bother to comply further. I was angry. That was my world's one chance. Brath's one chance. And it was gone. "I'm not thirsty."

He glanced toward the door, as though expecting someone to be coming any second. "Listen, they had figured out what you were up to, you see? They were going to ban you from going near the window…ban all of us. Even I was about to get replaced with someone else."

I was trying not to seethe as I listened.

"After today, we wouldn't have ever seen so much as an image of your world again. It was now or not at all." His brow crinkled together again. "I know it is not ideal, but it was the best chance we had."

My anger began to melt away. This was bad. The window had still been in France, or at least near it. The Legion had already passed through there. That meant the message had probably landed in some pile of debris or on a corpse or something. Even as I shuddered at the thought, another one occurred to me and I reached my hand into my satchel on my hip. "How did you even get—"

My bag was empty. I know that I'd kept the scrapbot, note, and spell together and on me, not wanting to lose them.

"Brath brought it to me."

Even as he spoke, I felt my world grind to a halt. That griffon and that kiss. Had the stupid bird warned him the vindicators were looking for us somehow?

And then…

I shot to my feet, startling Maevlen and sloshing my drink onto my fingers. Even as I dried them off and muttered an apology to Maevlen—I did ask if I needed to pay for the beer that I hadn't had, and he said not to worry about it—I stormed off toward the inn.

I think I heard Fizz call out a hello to me in the distance when I was entering the inn, though I didn't really register it. Instead, I made a beeline to our room where I saw Brath, sprawled out on his bed, face down as usual. My hands curled into fists and I flew toward him, though in the last moment I relaxed my fingers and just shoved him.

After all, if I punched him, I'd probably hurt myself way more than him. "You!"

It was all I could say. I'd managed to roll Brath slightly and he blinked up at me, genuine surprise on his face. However, even as I fumed, he seemed to realize what I was referring to and he smirked. "You're welcome."

Well.

That was not the thing to say.

It was like something inside me snapped. I screamed and tackled him against the wall, pounding my fists against his chest since I have to admit I don't have a clue about fighting. When I did think to swing for his face, he caught both my hands and rolled over so that he was pinning me to the bed.

His dark hair was like a curtain blocking out the rest of the world as it spilled over his shoulders and surrounded us. There was a spark in his eyes, that murderous sort of look that I condemned myself with by dismissing it as this world's problem when we'd first met. However, even as his pupils looked like little more than black lines down the centers of his bronze eyes, he seemed to remember something and his face twisted in what almost looked like pain.

He sat back up, though still on top of me and still holding me by my wrists. For a moment, I wasn't sure what was going through his head—am I ever?—but he slumped his shoulders and released my hands. "I would expect some sort of gratitude."

"The window's gone because of you," I hissed.

He eyed me. "Would you have rather given up on your world?"

Well, he had me there. I floundered for a moment before remembering why I was really angry. That kiss…he used it as a way to throw me off. That meant…it hadn't  _meant_  anything? Not that I wanted it to. But still. First kisses are supposed to be romantic and sure maybe you don't run off and marry the first guy you ever suck face with, but it should be… _something_.

I fish mouthed for a moment before sniffling, again feeling like I might cry. "You could have just asked for the message."

"My dear, dear Amy," Brath clasped my hands and gave me a warm smile that sort of creeped me out—namely because it was so out of character. He brought my fingers up and lightly pressed his lips to them and a teeny tiny part of me melted inside. His eyes stayed on my face and he seemed amused by my burning cheeks and speechlessness. "You can't lie to save your life, which is in a way endearing, I suppose." He reached out and let his fingers trail down the side of my face. "However, as I need you to save mine, keeping you in the dark is somewhat necessary."

My mind sort of blanked as I realized what he was saying.

"It's a pity Maevlen told you…we could have used those tears to help authenticate your innocence."

I just… Wow. What do you even say to that? He  _wanted_  me to think my world, my everything, was gone forever and ever? So that I'd be more convincing to people who might think that I had something to do with the window's collapse? He… who does that? Who in their right mind—

Oh, wait. Right. Crazy and evil.

How, when I remind myself all the time, did I forget that?

"You didn't have to steal my first…" I muttered before I could stop myself. It's amazing how such a simple, incomplete comment can make things so much… _worse_.

He leaned down toward me, letting his breath cause goose bumps on my neck. "Would you like me to make it up to you?"

Well, I have no clue how I would even respond to that. Luckily, I didn't have to. Even as my mind turned into a blank bigger than that non-world I fell through, Brath suddenly jerked his attention away from me and gripped a staff right before it could crash down on his skull.

Fizz had hurried after me and was there to save the day.

I have to say, it's easy to forget how fast Brath is when he lounges around all day. But when he wants to be, it's almost like you can't even see him, he's so fast. Before I could even remember that breathing was a necessity, he was off the bed and kicking Fizz into a wall. Or that had been his intent.

Fizz, on the other hand, did this spell—I think it's called blink—to dodge the attack and appeared behind Brath. And then he flung a freakin' fireball at him. Like a huge one. Brath dodged it and caught Fizz by his collar as the fireball exploded into the wall, raining little pieces of flaming stone around the room, and then tried to slam the goblin into the floor.

But Fizz twisted around so that he was free and shoved himself away from Brath so that Mr. Evil Dragon ended up just slamming his fist into the ground and it not only shattered at least a few bones in his hand, it also sent cracks through the floor.

Fizz seemed a bit cocky after escaping that run in with the floor. "Careful, dragon. Ya go too far, they'll figure out ya more than just some measly drake mount."

I heard shouts from down the hall—people were finally taking note of our craziness—and Brath grinned. He abruptly straightened up and started brushing the crinkles out of his robe. "Take care yourself, hero of the Horde."


	23. Mending Bridges

Have you ever felt like you're little more than a pawn in a bunch of other people's games? Like, that everyone around you is lying and using you to further some sort of agenda?

It isn't pleasant.

You may be wondering why I would say that. Sure, Brath has been using me from the start, but he was always semi-honest about it, or at least made sure that I knew he was up to  _something_. I'm pretty sure that Maevlen is helping me to ease his own conscience about not being able to stop the Legion, and it's only kind of annoying that he can't just come out and say that.

But Fizz? He didn't deny Brath's comment and he's been acting kind of jumpy, like he expects me to toss him to the vindicators. So what if he's Horde. He's still Fizz, right? Or…is he? Is that like a fake name? Is he a spy? Did he just use coming to see me as an excuse to map out the Exodar for the Horde?

I'm going to get my answers, one way or another. Though I suppose I should figure out how to get out of my house arrest—ship arrest would be more accurate—first.

So, a few things, just to catch you up. Fizz's pyroblast, as it's called, destroyed about half the room—and probably would have burned the inn down, had he not thrown a frost spell on it. Brath's punching the ground basically made it so that we can't stay in that room anymore—no one can—because parts of the floor are on the verge of collapsing.

While Fizz did pay for his part of the damages, we are no longer allowed to stay at the inn. Nor anywhere near the inn. Since the vindicators still think we had something to do with the collapse of the window, we aren't allowed to leave the Exodar, either.

So now I'm crashing at Neesera's and Fizz is at Maevlen's. And Brath?

Heheheheheh.

Turns out he shouldn't have been so cocky. Since he won't even try to fix the damage that was done, he's been locked up temporarily. How I revel in his misfortune. Serves him right, too. Being such a jerk and all.

Turns out Neesera's pretty loaded, though. I guess there are motorcycles in Azeroth—so weird—and she sells quite a few of them. And she said she'll pay for Brath's damages so that he can be free, but I told her to let him stew for a day or two. Maybe he'll learn his lesson…or just come out angry and grumbly. Meh, we'll see.

In the meantime, the four of us who aren't behind bars have been hanging out at Neesera's shop.

And it's been super awkward because I know something is up with Fizz and he knows that I want to ask about Brath's whole comment about the Horde. In fact, he's been avoiding me. Well, being alone with me, anyway. And I may be a bit slow sometimes, but I'm pretty sure if I ask in front of our draenic companions, bad things will happen. I may have lost my world. I don't want to lose my goblin, too. So I need to figure out how to get Fizz alone.

That is one of my main motives for my new life goals, at the moment.

With the window gone and the message sent, all I can really do is wait. And it's miserable. I keep trying to think about ways that I could get home, but I'm just drawing huge blanks. Neesera and I were settling in for the night, the first day after the window's collapse, and she saw that I was probably going to drive myself crazy, so she suggested, very gently, that I look into making a place for myself here in Azeroth.

I just kind of mumbled it off at the time, but…

Waiting is a lot harder than you would think. Or maybe not. Maybe that's another of those common sense things that eludes me. At first, I was convinced—impractical as it was—that any minute we'd get a message from someone. Something like, "Save us, please! We're here, hiding in basements!"

But no.

And it's worse, knowing that there's these underlying tensions that may break up my group. So, when Neesera said that she was going to go pay the fines against Brath so that he could come stay with us—and so he wouldn't get bored and eat a guard or something—I took advantage of the situation to go find Fizz.

So, you know how they were going to replace Maevlen? Since the window's gone, they're letting him continue his review of what information was already gathered, since he already knows what he's looked through and stuff. They probably figure it's more efficient that way.

That meant that Fizz would be by his lonesome. Assuming he wasn't at the auction house or something. And…how does that phrase go? Fortune smiled upon me?

Something like that.

I went over to Maevlen's house and saw Fizz there, reading in what I guess is the draenic equivalent to a living room. So. I figured that if I could sneak up on Mr. Rogue, I could sneak up on Fizz. Keep him from being able to run off and find something to do, you know?

So I slipped into Maevlen's house and snuck up behind Fizz. However, I decided against doing something dumb like grabbing his shoulders, seeing as he can throw fireballs and all. So instead I just plopped down between him and the door, making sure to make enough noise that he'd notice me.

Well, he certainly startled. And looked at me like he was way surprised that it was me. And then he frowned. And looked at the floor.

"So…I guess ya finally got me alone, huh?"

One thing I have always liked about Fizz is that he doesn't beat around the bush. Even as I nodded, he glanced around and then dropped his voice. "I'll be dead within half an hour, if word gets out, okay?"

"So you are Horde," I said, trying to get to the bottom of this mess. When he nodded, I kind of scooted a bit closer to him so that we could talk softer. "But…I thought that the Booty Bay goblins were neutral or something."

"We are—" He paused for a moment and gave a half laugh, shaking his head slowly. "Look, there's a bunch of different cartels, right? Well, only the Bilgewater goblins are members of the Horde. I'm Steamwheedle, but…" He always makes so many hand motions when he talks. As he looked at me, he shrugged, his hands held up, palms out. "A few years ago, I needed a bit of coin and I received a very lucrative business offer. I don't do much…just let the Horde know about any rumors I hear and maybe keep tabs on different 'heroes' who come through my town."

I eyed him for a minute. "And that's why Brath called you a hero?"

Fizz gave me this annoyed look. "That," he drew out the word slowly, "is because the Horde has been getting' a little…it's hard to explain. There's new leadership and attitudes are changin'. I was 'required' to show my loyalty."

It took forever to get Fizz to explain it, but apparently they threatened him and his girl—that goblin chick who didn't like me—if he didn't help them with this dragon lair in some giant mountain. And I guess he's actually a pretty apt fighter? Well, after helping them, Fizz was quick to point out that he couldn't be a spy  _and_  a hero and that the Horde seemed to already have plenty of the latter. So they let him go home without, I don't know, dismembering him or something.

"Is your name even really Fizz?" I asked after a short silence had settled over us.

He just stared at me with these wide eyes for a minute and then doubled over laughing.

"I ain't changin' my name for nobody, kid. I am and always will be Fizzit Icesprog."

Even though he seemed amused, that kind of worried me. After all, Nicolas has a tendency to be suspicious, right? And of me for sure. What if he looks into Fizz's past because he's my friend? How hard will it be for him to find connections to the Horde?

Well, even as I wondered if I should tell Fizz to go home—not because I didn't want him around, but because I didn't want him to get hurt—he kind of fidgeted and dropped the book he'd been reading before I came in to bug him. And as it hit the ground, my five dollars slipped out from where it'd been holding his place.

Even as he reached down and picked it up, he caught me staring at it and frowned. "What's the matter?"

"Fizz…how big does something have to be to make a window to my world?"

Even as his eyebrows shot up, I thought about something Brath had said, about proving my innocence to the vindicators. What better way than to give them a new window?


	24. Going Rogue

No word from my world yet. It's been two weeks.

I can tell that Fizz, Maevlen, and Neesera all want to sit me down and have that, 'you may have to prepare for the worst' talk, but they don't need to.

Maybe my world is gone. If it is, I can't beat myself up over it, because I did try. And maybe, if I get better acquainted with this world, I'll think of another way back to mine. Or maybe someone else will think like me and make it here. If I can raise awareness of my world's dilemma, then people will be more receptive to random strange tongue speaking humans. I mean, for all I know, Greg is here, but he wasn't lucky enough to meet an awesome goblin with a translation spell. Or…maybe he or someone else is already working with the Horde while I work with the Alliance.

I sound a lot more collected than I am. I still have nightmares and I still miss my world, but there's nothing I can do right now. Aside from make myself into something that could fight the demons. There's a place called Outland, that was destroyed by the Legion, but apparently there's still demons there. Maybe I'll take the fight to them. Save the next world.

I'll figure something out.

Oh, and Brath is stressing out about the lack of communication—and he was not amused that I had Neesera keep him locked up for as long as I did. When we went to get him, he was in dragon form and kept hissing at us. Which, you know, should have been really scary, since he could easily tear me in half, but I don't know why but I just giggled at him. I mean, it was like he was trying to save his pride and show that, yes, he  _is_  a big scary dragon, and it just…made me laugh. And when I did that he looked so…disappointed. So he sulked for a bit after that.

:)

Anyway. I managed to get him alone for a bit and he explained his situation to me. I don't think he really cared that  _I_  knew per se, but it was more a way for him to look over what was happening again and see if he could figure out how to keep things in his favor. We haven't addressed that kiss since his fight with Fizz, by the way.

Apparently the black dragon flight was corrupted by the old gods, like Neesera said. But there's one pure one. And it's the one employing Nicolas. Well, Brath went to the pure black dragon and implored it to let him live, so that he could help save another world and possibly earn his redemption.

Brath is surprisingly unsettled by the fact that the other dragon agreed. Something about the way it looked at him, like it could see something happening that he couldn't.

Well, he's worried that if we don't find a way into my world soon, the other dragon will change its mind and Nicolas will come after him. When I asked if he was really that scared of Nicolas, he gave me this strange look. At first, he wouldn't say any more, but I finally got him to tell me what was bothering him. His father's dead.

Apparently he could feel the shift in power, like he could sense his dad's life fade out of existence. It's like a dragon thing.

When I realized how upset he was about his family basically getting slaughtered because some outside factor had made them all crazy, I hugged him and he got irritated that 'a lesser creature would take pity on him', though he did lean against me for a minute before jerking away and then making some stupid comment about making out, which reminded me I'm still mad at him for being such a jerk.

I hold grudges, okay?

Anyway, I guess he's feeling vulnerable now that the rest of his flight is actually gone. I guess in some ways, you could say that he's lost his world, too. Hence why he's so eager to get a message from mine.

And I'm eager, too, don't get me wrong. It's been really hard not to stick my head in where Maevlen's working—oh, he's only working on the images from the first window. Even though Fizz and I presented the vindicator captain or leader or whatever with the five dollars, and apparently they did make a new portal, none of us have been allowed to so much as see it. They did promise to let us know if they found life, though.

But…yeah. Neesera had a great idea and she made another scrapbot and had me write another message and Fizz make another spell and then we presented it to the vindicators as a way to get a message through, as though it were the first one that we'd made. To help 'prove' that we didn't destroy the first window.

They're still totally suspicious, but it's like they can't say anything now because if they do they'll look like jerks when we've gone  _so far_  out of our way to be helpful to them. Brath loves it and makes the rest of us feel horrible because of it.

Well, even though Brath suggested we sneak around and try to find our way to the second window, majority opinion is to not. We don't need to make actual enemies of the very people I'm hoping will someday be storming my world to save it.

But, back on what Brath was telling me…

Okay, so, I'm not some gossip monger, but…it was just the way he was acting about it, you know? I mean, he was really worried. So I kind of went to Neesera with this information while Brath was out depopulating the island's wildlife for dinner, to see if she could fill me in. And…wow.

So, apparently she hasn't always lived in the Exodar. No, I'm not talking about Argus or whatever. She used to travel Azeroth, right? But, she wouldn't say much and—even if she is like a foot and a half taller than me, older, and much better built—she's just so adorable that I couldn't press the subject. I think she has the most innocent smile I've ever seen. It makes you just want to hug her. I digress though.

Like I was saying, she was a traveler. Now, she was all sorts of quick to say she wasn't some hero, like Nicolas or his group—why are so many people quick to assert that they aren't heroes here?—but that she'd gone around helping out various peoples and the like. Including some red dragons in a place called the Badlands.

Remember Derres? So, I already knew this from my handy little book, but the red flight are in charge of keeping life safe and so they've been sort of the front runners against the black dragon flight. And I guess some other red dragon helped to purify a single black dragon egg, making it the only one free from the old gods' influence.

Now, at this point, I admit that I interrupted her and asked if we could just purify Brath. And she just stared at me for a minute and then asked, "You think he would sit still for that?"

Well, that eliminated any need to ask any more questions, because, no, I don't think he'd sit still through some purification process. And Neesera was quick to point out that the old gods would probably whisper to him and have him attack us if we tried.

So…that's out. And what's kind of scary is these old gods supposedly have ways of peering into minds. So, like, they may already know that I want to save Brath from them and could be poisoning him against me. Those are more Neesera's words than mine. I don't think there's any real poisoning to be had, because I don't think he's really, honestly fond of me.

Like, I'm just a means to his end.

Even so, to have them telling the already crazy, sociopathic dragon to kill me is gonna add new dimensions to my nightmares. But.

I'm so off topic.

Anyway, Neesera's really sad because the dragon she was helping was killed. And she'd never known what became of that egg, right? Well, she's convinced that the dragon Brath went to is the egg she helped save and I think that I unwittingly gave her some closure on that whole ordeal.

And what's more interesting is the fact that the dragon is actually letting Brath redeem himself. Because, he's 'tainted' right? So, it's not like it's something that can really be cured, so far as I can gather from Neesera's explanations. So Brath should have been killed when he arrived to visit the pure dragon.

Well, Neesera was interested in what I said, about how Brath thought the other dragon could see something going on. She had no clue what it could mean, but she did wonder aloud if something is happening to save Brath. Like, maybe the flight didn't need to get wiped out.

I'll be sad if that's the truth.

But, Brath came back about then and we had to drop the subject. He brought us roasted deer. Dragons are so…weird. Like, they're smarter than humans, right? But…some of the things Brath does just scream pet or whatever. Like, he basically trotted through the Exodar in dragon form—his tail swishing and tripping people who weren't paying attention and walked too close to him…we got a few complaints about him—with a deer in his mouth, so that he could bring it to us and then—I kid you not—dropped it on Neesera's front step like a cat might a mouse to show its owner what a good hunter it is. I admit, a deer is more impressive than a mouse. But…to see Brath sitting in front of the house, pretty much waiting for us to thank him for dinner…

Not us. Me. Neesera told him it looked like a very nice stag and he growled at her. Like, lowered his head and sort of eyed her like he might be frying her next.

And, since he was released for the damages he did to the inn, he's been staying in dragon form. Which means he sleeps outside of Neesera's house, curled up against one of the walls and growling at any and all guards and people in general who come too close to the house. Why he's pretending to be a guard dog is beyond me.

Well, I have to admit that studying Brath's oddities is a nice way to pass the time while I wait to hear from my world, but it's sort of maddening in its own way. Maybe that's the old gods at work. They're having him drive me crazy.

…I shouldn't joke about that.

Anyway…I don't really have a direction for myself, since all I can do is wait. And I felt bag just crashing on Neesera's floor permanently. I mean, she practically smothered me with blankets, so it's not like she's a bad hostess or anything, but I feel bad that I'm taking up so much of her floor with them. I tried to shove everything into a corner and she just giggled at me and said I looked like I was nesting.

Basically, I've had to find something to fill my time with. I mean I can only fold blankets and stare at Brath for so long before I get bored/frustrated.

I tried engineering, but…Neesera is so nice, right? Until she's training you with something. Then she just gets scary. Like, she smacked my hand when I kept messing up copper bolts and told me that I had to concentrate. I'm not saying that I'm gonna give up on something just because of a simple thwack, but after spending  _hours_  trying to make bolts, my fingers were numb and raw and I had made no progress.

Even so, it was Neesera who brought up that maybe engineering wasn't for me. She suggested I try some other skills. Mining takes way too much upper body strength. That was another of her ideas. She led me out onto the island and let me borrow her mining pick. Did you know you can break ore to the point that it's unusable? You can. I can.

Fizz is a tailor and an enchanter. I could regale you with tales of me trying to disenchant items, but I don't want to wallow in my ineptitudes. I think I've done that enough at this point. I'm a decent tailor, which was better than I'd done with pretty much everything else, but in the end I was no shining star. I guess I can toss out that idea of being a fashion designer.

Leather working creeped me out too much, since it was dead animal skins and stuff and don't even talk to me about skinning. Ew. Of course that was the one Brath wanted me to try. He even caught me some sort of deer, threatening when I refused to even try to skin it that he was just going to leave its corpse lying around, a life wasted. Some draenei took offense to his actions and skinned the deer to make use of it. I did not watch…

I think I tried pretty much everything and was horrified that fishing was going to be on the next day's agenda—eating fish is fine, but catching them, not so much…and it's hard to look forward to something when a dragon is hopping around and flapping its wings at the thought of 'learning' how to do it with you—when Maevlen took me out to pick flowers. Herbalism, I think they call it. I'm a pro now, when it comes to silverleaf. Earthroot still kicks my butt, though. It's a lot harder to tug a root out of the ground than you'd think. They always break in weird places for me. Maevlen, though? He could uproot a whole tree with a single tug, I swear.

He makes potions and stuff.

Oh, an interesting tidbit. While magic hates me, potions work really well. So if I get hurt, I just have to chug a couple healing potions. Well, technically, you're not supposed to drink too many at a time, because it can basically cause your cells to go haywire and regenerate weird. A.k.a. Azeroth's form of cancer. And since magic can't fix that for me, I have to be careful.

Imagine, I travel worlds, escape demons, fly on dragons, and get killed by cancer.

That would be so…anticlimactic. Almost as bad as falling down stairs and breaking my neck.

Anyway. I was super excited that I could pick silverleaf, at least—there's also peacebloom, but…okay. Silverleaf is this tiny leaf that you can get off this huge bush. You can get enough to fill your bags from like three of them. Peacebloom…you have to do way more traveling to stock up on.

So I'm like Exodar's source for silverleaf. Most people don't have the patience to sit at one bush and search for all the prime leaves and honestly, sometimes I don't get to when Brath sets the bushes on fire to 'test' my reflexes.

…I hate that dragon sometimes. Most of the time, really.

Anyway. I like the meticulous work. It keeps my mind preoccupied, while if I'm wandering around looking for daisies—that's basically what peacebloom is—I have time to wonder about my world and then I just get worried or depressed.

By the way, apparently the Exodar doesn't need all the leaves I bring in and I've been trying my hand at the auction house. I made like five gold. I thought that must be pretty good, but Fizz cried when I told him how much silverleaf I'd put up. I guess I should have charged more? Eh, he's agreed to handle my auctions, so long as I give him a cut of the earnings.

Sidetracked…anyway. In addition to becoming the queen of silverleaf, I've been training to be a rogue. Which is really hard because draenei can't be rogues—I guess because their hooves let people know they're coming—and pretty much no one's around to tell me what to do. Someone suggested I go to Darn-something-or-other and talk to some elves, but I don't want to miss any messages from my world. And Nicolas said he'd be back, right?

Not that I'm looking forward to seeing him. It's just…he'll train me with the harder stuff, so for now I can work on the basics. Which I assume are holding daggers and swinging them around without hurting myself.

It's a good thing that I can use healing potions.

Fizz showed me how to grip a dagger, though, so I'm getting better. And they have these training dummies that people can practice on. The guards let me have one. So that, you know, I don't lunge at one while one of their hunters is practicing his archery and get an arrow in my back.

I tried to practice sneaking around a few guards that have gotten used to seeing me, but…they were just humoring me, it turns out. I thought I was doing pretty good, but then this guy who's normally patrolling the island came in and started to ask what I was doing, but one of the other guards put a finger to his lips. He tried to play off his action when he saw that I saw him, but…yeah.

I am not a ninja.

I can sneak up on regular people, though. Not that I want to. I mean, why would I scare the woman who cooks at the inn? She's still kind of mad at me and Fizz and she'll never  _not_  be mad at Brath.

I felt kind of bad, by the way, freeloading off of the draenei. I mean, they gave me clothes and shelter and food. And in return, I brought them depression and Brath. But then, Maevlen just assured me that it's cool because I bring in so much plant life.

I am still skeptical.

However, I've decided. If I don't hear from my world in the next month, I'm going to stop waiting for the message. The only reason I'm gonna wait so long is in case the people who got it are having trouble finding a good source of power to fuel the portal back.

If I don't hear anything by then, I'll accept that my message did land in one of the dead regions of my world.

And I'll figure something else out.

In the meantime though, I guess it's time to start looking at carving out a place for myself here, in case I can't get home.


	25. Gathering Forces

So, I was swinging my blades at the target dummy, trying to be more precise—I'd marked a few places I wanted to aim for so that I could see how good my accuracy was…it's not great—when suddenly two hands clamped down on mine. It hurt, because it kind of crushed my hands into the daggers I was holding.

When I realized they were human hands, I glared up, thinking this was one of Brath's latest ideas to help me learn combat readiness. Like, the gloves should have tipped me off that it wasn't Brath, but…yeah. I'm not the best with details.

Instead of my dragon, I found Nicolas. This man…he would never make it in polite society. No clue how to give a casual greeting or anything. He's straight to business. Well, as he kept my hands in his vice grips, he had this expression…total incredulity.

So…apparently mages and rogues hold daggers differently. When Nicolas found out that I'd asked a mage for tips, he'd ranted that he was going to have to re-teach me and that I'd be harder to train since I'd already learned a wrong way.

I mean, he was gone for over a month—and left when I was all catatonic—and the first thing he does when he gets back is yell at me? I was not having that. It was week five since I'd sent my message and my hopes were getting pretty bleak. And on top of worrying about my world, there was Brath who's future was linked to it, and then Fizz. I mean, what if he does something to screw up and shows his allegiances to the Horde? If we recruit them for saving my world, then maybe we can stage something to make it look like he's just picking a side instead of, you know, spying on the Exodar. Because, I mean, come on. He has to be. Every walkway he memorizes could be used against the Alliance, even if he doesn't mean for it to now.

And then, I mean, I was worried about them. Clara and the others. I guess, maybe even Nicolas. I tried pestering people about how long these raids generally took and all I got was a lecture about how long it might take to get to the place and then what sort of enemy it was. Like, I guess there are evil dwarves? And when their city was infiltrated and their leaders killed, the people who did it were in there for two weeks.

Well, I'd asked if they were off defeating Deathwing—I'm getting really good with names—but nobody really knew. I think they tried to keep quiet about it for security reasons, you know? Like, so that their enemies wouldn't know who to look for.

Anyway, no one knew how long they'd take or if they'd all make it back and so I was kind of worried that something would happen.

And I was kind of thinking that I might hug a few people when they got back.

Nicolas made sure that I forgot about that. He practically broke one of my fingers as he jerked my daggers from me and held them up, an irritated tick in one of his eyebrows as he spoke. "What in the nether are you doing?"

"Training?" I glared at him, devising a witty comeback to follow my comment with, but he spoke before I could.

"And why are you holding your daggers like you're a damned mage?" I think the look on my face explained everything to him because in a second he had both daggers tucked under one arm and he was pinching the bridge of his nose with his other arm crossed horizontally in front of him, his hand balled into a fist. Like he was trying to keep from throwing my daggers at me. "How long have you been practicing like this?"

I shifted my weight, suddenly feeling like one of my teaches had called on me to explain some book we were supposed to read, but I forgot to. "Um…maybe a week?"

His next question kind of threw me.

"And you're getting a feel for it?" When I just blinked, he shrugged, his face creepishly calm. "You're getting the hang of it? Your weapons fit into your hands more easily now that you've been practicing?"

I shrugged and then nodded. I was getting used to using them, after all.

He smacked me on the side of the head.

Even as I cried out and dodged back a few steps away from him—he was not impressed with my evasion skills, either, I could tell—he threw my daggers on the ground and let out a string of curses. "Do you have any idea how far back you've set yourself?" When I tried to reply, he shook his head and clapped a hand over my mouth to make sure I wouldn't talk back. "I'm going to have to re-teach you to hold them. Unlearning your idiocy is going to take far longer than simply learning them."

I shoved his hand away and…if I could take back my next words, I totally would. But, yeah. I can't.

"Well you took your sweet time getting back!"

He looked like I'd run him through with something. And then he looked away and ran his hands down his face, stopping to cover his mouth for a moment before finally looking back at me. Suddenly, I was terrified that he was going to ask about my world. That he would try to inflict the same pain that I'd somehow done to him.

Instead, he let his hand fall down to his side and looked at the target dummy I'd been beating on, frowning as he inspected the scratches on it. And my markers. "Don't mention the raid to Clara or Eric, alright?" TJ's name is Eric. I don't know how I got that so wrong. Even as I made my mental note, he took in a deep breath and stooped down to pick up my daggers, flipping them in his hands as he looked at their poor quality. "If they bring it up, then fine. But I don't want you to."

"Why? What happened?" Maybe he'd been hinting that he didn't want to talk about it either, but… The subject had already been breached, you know? "It was to kill Deathwing, right? Brath's dad?"

He looked me over for a moment. "It was."

"Then you won," I said it matter-of-factly. After all, he was standing in front of me, and Brath had said that his dad was dead already.

"Randall's dead."

I felt like my heart would stop. Not because I could remember Randall, because he'd been the responsible one or because he'd been almost as nice as TJ. The look on Nicolas face when he said it… I didn't have to know either of them to know that they'd been like family to one another. Or Nicolas had at least viewed him that way.

"What do you think you're doing?"

His voice had that harsh edge to it that I loathed, but I ignored it and kept hugging him. The way he felt…it's how I feel when I think about Greg or my parents and how I've failed them.

When he finally managed to get me to let him go, he started to head back toward the inn, though I kind of pointed out that I couldn't go there. Well, he said that we needed to get Clara and TJ—Eric, anyway, so we headed over. At first it was in silence and I figured that was as good as we'd get. I was trying to think of how to greet Clara and Eric without pretending I didn't know or, you know, harping on the fact that they'd just lost a friend. Like, just waving and saying 'hi' seemed pretty callous.

But then Nicolas started talking.

It wasn't just Randall. Like half their raid died.

They were doing really well until right at the end when Deathwing did this last ditch attempt to take them down with him. I guess he lunged at some other important dragon? But Derres shot in front and took the brunt of the damage, and when he and Deathwing collapsed onto where the heroes were, that's what killed them. From what I gathered, they were on this tiny, tiny rock in the middle of the ocean, which was super choppy and unpleasant, and Deathwing's head hit the rock at an angle and splintered it, crushing some people right away and sending others into the waters, where they drowned.

I don't know how Randall died exactly and I…I don't want to. I don't want to ask Nicolas to relive those memories, even if he already is.

Derres is gone, too. I…don't think he's dead? I was kind of amazed that Nicolas would even confide in me, even if it was just telling me simple facts about what had happened. And I didn't want to press him when he was obviously hurting. I think Derres went off with some other dragons because his wings were damaged really badly from his fall, but I don't know if they expected him to make a recovery or not and Nicolas didn't really hint one way or the other.

I feel like asking to clarify would be too morbid.

And I also feel bad because it never occurred to me that they were facing their own apocalypse. Even when Brath talked about wiping out all life, it didn't really dawn on me, you know? It must have sucked, spending some of their last free time down in Booty Bay and then having some strange person try to talk them into rallying the armies, when they were already rallied for something else. I mean, until I'd come along, Deathwing was pretty much their last main threat, right? Now they know they have a whole other world to deal with.

Oh, and Eric lost an eye. Apparently healing magics still need all the pieces to repair them, so like, if you cut your thumb off, it can be healed back on, but if it gets blown to pieces, you're down an appendage. Eric's eye was taken out by some sort of shrapnel near the end of the fight, so they were lucky to heal him up as well as they did. Nicolas told me he was only saying anything so that I'd know and try not to stare. I guess Eric's kind of self-conscious?

Well, even as Nicolas was starting to turn the conversation toward my training—I couldn't be mad at him anymore for being so mean, given the circumstances—we heard this fierce clopping noise. I'd never really seen any draenei run before, much less heard them. So…it was a little disconcerting.

I followed Nicolas' gaze, as he figured out the direction of the sound before I did, and my eyes widened as I saw Neesera tear around a corner, her brilliant gaze sweeping across the open area, only to hone in and lock on me. A giant grin stretched her lips as she tore toward us, barely skidding to a stop long enough to grab my hand before turning around and heading back the way she'd come from.

As Nicolas easily kept pace with us and I felt like my arm would jerk out of its socket, I managed to ask what was going on and Neesera glanced over her shoulder at me, her hair flailing around her face and those odd tentacles—did I ever mention the draenei have tentacles?—slipping over her shoulder.

"You must see to believe!"

Well, I was not in the mood for enigmatic answers, and neither was Nicolas. He mirrored my frown as he asked, "What do we have to see?"

Even as Neesera laughed, she turned a corner, nearly sending me stumbling into Nicolas—he was agile enough to dodge me—and I realized that we were heading toward the room that had housed the window. "Your message has been answered!"

Well.

I don't think either of them realized I could move so fast, but in a breath, I was dragging Neesera the last few yards, slipping into that enclosed space where I'd spent days and days staring at images of gore and death.

To say my message was answered was a bit of an understatement.

I barely managed to tumble to a stop as I saw the young boy standing in front of Maevlen and Fizz, clutching a backpack—a mass produced backpack—in front of him like a shield as he stared around him in bewilderment. I heard Fizz mumble something about his translation spell having trouble sticking and Maevlen rattling off about having to finish the connection to my world from this side for some sort of portal, but it didn't register.

What did register was the band logo on the sleeve of the frayed and dirt-stained t-shirt the boy was wearing, the sneakers poking out from under his ripped jeans, their laces undone, and the glasses resting on his nose, definitely made using some sort of machine that was used to mass production.

My knees gave out and I found myself on the floor staring up at the kid in front of me. He couldn't have been more than twelve, but that hardly mattered. He was from my world, without a doubt.

We weren't too late.


	26. Not the Best Timing

I don't…I don't even know where to begin. I mean, there are still people in my world. This is great. Awesome. Epic, as Greg would say.

And yet…I almost wish I hadn't made contact with my world.

I'm a horrible person.

The little boy who showed up, his name's Michel De Smedt. He's from a town I've never heard of a bit south of Brussels, Belgium—which I have to admit I would not be able to find quickly on a map, though I do know it'd be in Europe…somewhere. So, the window was heading north, which means that it was just showing the part of the world that was already lost to the Legion. Which is good, because that means that maybe there's a lot of the world left to save.

It's just… it's Michel. He's…

Okay. Have you ever like, totally idolized someone? Or maybe not totally, but you saw what they'd accomplished and just knew they had to be awesome? Well, apparently traveling to another world and managing to send a message home really impressed Michel and his parents. And I guess Michel got it in his head that I had to be some total bad ass for using the Legion's own transportation against them and all.

So you can imagine how disappointed he was when he met me. I don't think I could have let him down more if I'd secretly been working for the Legion and had just tricked his parents into sending him to their leader so that the monster would have a nice little snack before setting up a victory camp in Antarctica.

I know that I talk about Greg a lot, but you know how I always kind of expected Greg to have made it to Azeroth and for it to be a total breeze for him to rally the armies and all that inspirational crap?

It's like Michel expected that from me.

And the fact that I have a dragon, a few draenei, a goblin, and three humans willing to head out and save the day isn't quite the insurmountable force that he hoped for.

I keep telling myself that it doesn't matter. After all, I never claimed to be a hero. I've never tried to be one. Heck, I came here _looking_  for heroes. I just…I wish I hadn't disappointed him. I never had to live through the Legion actually bearing down on my town, so I don't know how bad it really was.

It's like, all this time I've beat myself up over not being fast enough or smart enough, but there was always some small part of me that could whisper, "It's okay, you're doing your best." But then with Michel…he didn't say anything. It's what he didn't say. The way his face fell when he found out I was the 'great' Amy Ford. That the scrawny girl who couldn't hold her daggers right was the one trying to orchestrate a counter attack against the demons.

It's selfish and petty and I'll get over the hit to my pride, or whatever this is. I just…this was supposed to be a victory, so why does it feel like more of a failure than all my other mishaps?

Michel should have come to Azeroth instead of me. He's more knowledgeable about Azeroth, because, get this, he played Warcraft with his dad. And he was just a little disgusted by my lack of knowledge on it. Like, the look he gave me when I explained that I'd thought Azeroth was run by warlocks. I might as well have told him that I thought Belgium was the capital of Japan and that obviously his native tongue was Swahili.

It's a stupid game. I'm not uncultured for not knowing about its societies.

Though I suppose I am uncultured for not being able to find Belgium on a map without a twelve-year-old telling me that it's north of France.

Not my point.

Once Fizz got his translation spell going—and sold it to Maevlen and TJ for a decent price—Neesera was quick to usher Michel off to get washed up and relax a bit. Even though he seemed pretty hell bent on heading back to Earth with thousands of soldiers to crash into the Legion's forces like a wave, after he talked to me for five minutes he sort of lost his gusto and let Neesera take him away. But not before shoving a letter from his dad into my hands along with his backpack.

The latter was full of all sorts of stuff from my world. Broken cell phones, wooden knick knacks, car keys, silverware, all sorts of smallish stuff from my world. Plenty for portals. There was even, I kid you not, a furby. I did not know those had made it to Europe. I mean, I guess Hasbro sells stuff everywhere, but…they just seemed like such a stupid trend…

Anyway. He did bring a lot of stuff from our world and from our brief conversation, I was able to glean a few things.

From what I can figure, Belgium fell right around the time I came to Azeroth. Maybe a little before, since it's up there with Germany and I know they were getting hit pretty hard right around then. Regardless, there's—supposedly—a decent number of survivors. Michel said that he'd seen quite a few people when he and his parents would move locations.

Never really talked to them directly, I guess? And when you consider how many people there used to be, it's like a really small number, but! If a few hundred people are alive in every city, that adds up, you know?

And the internet is still working. Which I don't understand. Right about when I tried to ask how that was even possible was when Michel lost interest in talking to me. So, while he went to have a bath, I got to play name what's being held up by one of my friends as they went through the stuff in the backpack.

I mentioned TJ—Eric. Eric, Eric, Eric. I mentioned him earlier. Well, he and Clara had already heard about the Brath/Fizz incident from the inn keeper and were hanging around outside the inn, which, if you remember, has a view of the window's area. So, they saw Nicolas, Neesera, and I head in there and they hurried over and showed up right about when the translation spell kicked in so that they could reassure the adorable other-worldly child that everything would be okay. That the demons would pay.

Clara headed off with Neesera to fawn over poor little Michel. And the guys are looking at me like I forsook my X-chromosome for not clutching the boy to my bosom the second I saw him and telling him it'd be okay in some matronly voice.

And, you know, Nicolas didn't open with, "Hey your friends and family are dead," like he did with me. The kid saw his daggers and commented on them—something about legendary—and so Nicolas loves the kid. Let Michel hold one, told him to be careful of the _poison_. Michel knows stuff about spells and that Gutterspeak is a Horde language and he never had to be told that goblins aren't gremlins.

So he fits in just perfectly here.

And even as I was trying to explain what a digital alarm clock is to Fizz, he came back because he couldn't sit idly by when there was a world to save and captured everyone's attention with how brave he is for a little boy. He enraptured them with his tales of surviving the apocalypse and he suggested that, instead of trying to make a portal from just scraps, why not hijack an existing—yet abandoned, apparently—Legion portal in some place called Zingermarch or something and everyone jumped on board with that.

So…yeah. We're making plans to head back to my world now.

Well, they are.

Little Amy here doesn't know enough about magic or portals to be much help and when I tried to offer ideas they all kind of gave me those looks. You know the ones. Where it's like they think you're useless, but they don't want to say it out loud because they know you're too much of a pansy to take it?

Even Nicolas, who's useless when it comes to magic, gave me one of those looks. Like he knows how to make a portal.

Grrr.

Well, Neesera finally suggested that maybe I could go find Brath, since he was still out of the loop. He'd gone off hunting for food. I know that she was trying to make me feel useful, but…Michel started asking why I was friends with a black dragon—since Nicolas had to point that out—and now everyone loves him even more.

…

I am aware that I am jealous of a child. I am also aware of how pitiful that is.

I just…he acts like I've been sitting on my thumbs the whole time, like I've been dragging my feet. And he stole all my friends by going through pretty much the same thing I did…except a little worse because he actually saw the demons slaughtering more than just a few police officers, I guess. And I know I'm older, but…I wanted someone to tell me it'd be okay. To be super enthusiastic about saving my world. And all I got was reluctance, ridicule, suspicion, and a sociopathic dragon.

Speaking of. I bet he falls in love with Michel, too.

…You know you've reached a low point when you don't want to lose your psychopath to a twelve-year-old.

Well, I figured that finding Brath would just make my day worse, since, you know, Brath will probably hop on board the, 'let's make Amy feel guilty for not being a gamer' train, so even though I said I was going to get him, I just headed down the coast away from the Exodar, giving myself some time to myself.

I don't know what's wrong with me. I mean, he's a kid. He needs to be coddled and told the future's full of sunshine and daisies. I'm old enough to handle the truth. That we're gonna lose people, like Nicolas lost in his raid. That it's gonna be grueling. That we might not live to see the demons pushed back.

As I walked along, I remembered the letter Michel had handed me and I realized I still had it clenched in one of my hands. I tried to smooth out some of the wrinkles and unfolded it to see that it was written in English—I think because my mind read it easier, like it had that J.

As I read the letter, barely skimming it at first as I figured Michel was probably just as informed as his parents, the words sunk in and I found myself reading and rereading it to make sure I wasn't somehow misinterpreting what was written.

_Ms. Ford,_

_My name is Laurent De Smedt. I know my English will be a small part awkward. I am writing to you in English because you said you are American, and because Michel can only read French and Dutch and I do not want him to know what I must tell you. You may wonder why, when your instructions said that the portal will not be stable enough for a person, my wife, Anna, and I have sent our son to you._

_The demons, as you say, came through our city some time ago. I must admit I have lost track of time, as days run together now._

_While our country's order has long since ceased, there are still survivors throughout our area and maybe beyond. We avoid others, because large groups draw the demons. And there are traitors._

_They come to us as other survivors and then give us to the demons. I do not know why they do this, but it is harder and harder to hide from them and their masters—I can think of no better way to describe the demons' relationship to them._

_Michel is very good with computers. I taught him well. If you can bring help, know that the internet still works, barely. And anything you post to it will be seen by the demons. I think they are keeping it up, though I cannot explain why. Perhaps they enjoy watching us struggle to communicate. Perhaps they are using it to find us._

_I have relayed your message of help, since it does not matter if they are using the internet to track Anna and myself. There is an old airport in our city and if you are reading this, we successfully started one of its generators to create the portal. That will likely draw the demons to us faster than sending out messages of hope._

_I am sure most will not believe my words, but there are some who will find the will to hang on from your message. Please hurry. Please look after Michel. Please let him know that we love him._

_Our hopes and prayers are with you. Send these bastards back to whatever hell they come from._

_Laurent De Smedt_

I felt sick. I really am horrible. I wonder if Michel knows that his parents sacrificed themselves on a slim chance to send him to safety. How can I be so jealous and mad when he's lost as much as I have? Maybe more. When he's been through worse?

I probably would have mentally pummeled myself all the way back to the Exodar to go hug Michel—and probably cry on him—had I not turned around and found a human man standing a few yards away, between me and the Exodar. And I couldn't even see the Exodar, I'd walked so far down the beach, along the curve of the island, that the great ship was hidden by the trees that came almost to the beach.

That man… He looked vaguely familiar and I couldn't quite place where I'd seen him before. However, even as I took in his dark robes, the way his hood covered most of his face, and the staff he held in one of his hands that had a what looked eerily like a real skull resting at its head, it was the presence that really got to me.

You know what I told you before right? You know when they're coming, even if you can't see them.

I whirled around to see that a felguard stood angled behind me, as though to make sure I wouldn't be able to run into the trees. I gripped the note as I saw it roll its shoulder and then hoist its blade up from where it'd been resting against the ground so that it held it in both hands, ready to swing.

When I looked back at the man, it was like a nightmare. Like every terror I could have imagined was slowly tying together. He reached his hand into his hood and slipped something off one of his ears. Even as he pulled his hand back, his body began to wither and slouch and his robes decayed until I found myself staring at a living corpse, just barely able to make out two golden glowing lights beneath his tattered hood.

I remembered seeing someone like this, in Booty Bay.

A forsaken.

I heard the sand crunch softly behind me and jerkily turned to see the felguard had advanced a few steps, though it was still at a slight distance. As I tried to angle myself so that I could see both of them, the man started walking toward me, the air seeming to grow staler the closer he drew and I could feel the same demonic sort of presence emanating from him.

"Now that I have your attention, let us get down to business," his voice sounded like rocks grating against a brick wall. "I do believe you stole my dragon."


	27. Dot Dot Dot

Well, a few things.

First, when I had headed out to find Brath, I'd managed to get my daggers back from Nicolas, on the off chance I ran into one of those saber cat things that roam the island. While I think everyone thinks that I'd pretty much just run flailing away from said creature, he gave me back my weapons, if only so I'd have a security blanket as I looked for my dragon.

So, as Mr. Undead came stalking toward me, I was armed, at least.

Second, I considered trying to do the whole, "Brath is a living, sentient creature, so he can't really be yours," logic on him, but I somehow doubted he would care much. I read a bit about the Forsaken and they're kind of evil. Like, drown puppies for fun evil.

Not to mention he was clearly controlling a demon somehow. A small part of me registered that this guy must have been one of those warlocks that I was originally looking for and I have to say…I am  _so_  glad I didn't meet any of them first. Even if he'd been a human. Like, a living one. No. No, thank you.

And third? Heh. Thank goodness for small breaks.

You see, the forsaken guy stopped a few feet from me and his fel guard marched forward a pace or two. As I eyed the whole thing, my hands went for my daggers and the warlock just kind of laughed. I suppose I'm not really that imposing of a figure. Always been a bit short for my age. And, you know, I think it's pretty obvious that I'm not some seasoned fighter.

Anyway, he just kind of stared at me for a moment, as though making sure I wasn't just pretending to look like a young, mostly helpless thing, and then crossed his arms. "My dragon." His words were slow and deliberate, as though he was reveling in my fear. " _If_  you return him to me, I'll kill you quickly. If not," he motioned to his fel guard, "I'll let him play with you until you feel like talking."

"I…" Even as I started to try to think of what I could say—maybe that'd I'd lead him to Brath and hope that my dragon could be able to maim both the man and his demon before they could do anything—the felguard laughed.

I thought of those police men. Of the devastation of my world. Of my allies who were out of reach, giddily planning to take the fight to the demons. Of Greg, my parents, Bethany. Of all the little things I would never get to do. Even if my world was saved, there was so much that would still be lost to me. Even if we're saved, we'll be too busy picking up the pieces to afford to be able to go back to school, to college. Entertainment jobs—like fashion designers and actresses—will take a back seat to restoring our crumbled society. All the things I looked forward to, knew would happen, are gone. Who's gonna waste time on a prom or graduation ceremony or even just a birthday party with karaoke and drinking when there are buildings that need to be repaired or food that needs to be procured? Yeah there will still be times when we'll be able to relax a bit and laugh, but it won't be the same. There will always be that cloud hanging over us, that reminder that we lost a part of who we were the moment those demons set foot on our world. My world might as well be Azeroth, as different as it will be when I get back to it.

All because of the creatures behind that laugh.

Now, I know the demon was only a minion. I know that. I know that any sound tactical person would probably go for the warlock, since apparently killing them dismisses their pet—Maevlen told me about that during our flower picking expeditions.

But it was just…I couldn't have fought the warlock and listened to that laughter. That cruel, sadistic, evil…

I don't know if you've ever gone into a blind rage before, but, um, it's true about not really being in control of what you do, hence the blind. And I don't really know how long I'd have been in it, were it not for that warlock.

Which brings me back to my third thing: magic resistance.

I guess when I lunged at his felguard, Mr. Warlock tried to set me on fire. Well, no real surprise there, nothing happened, leaving me free to somehow tackle—looking at the area, apparently there was somewhat of a scuffle, though again, I can't quite remember it—his felguard and sever its head from its body.

Apparently, from the hack job, I was still mutilating its torso when the warlock finally used a high enough level spell to hit me.

That knocked me off what was left of his pet and back to my senses. Sort of. I mean, I saw what I'd done to that felguard and started gagging trying not to throw up—more so because  _I'd_  just done that than the fact it had been done. However, even as I tried to come to terms with killing another living creature with my own two hands, I heard that scratchy voice slurring words together, calling on darkness and damnation and all that.

For a second I was petrified because I just knew that as soon as he finished that cast I was a goner. Namely because he'd actually figured out how to hit me. But then I remembered something I've learned from observation more so than anyone actually telling me.

The stronger the spell, the longer it takes to cast.

So while the warlock was conjuring up my doom, I went after him. One of my daggers had fallen to the ground, but I grabbed it up as I sprinted toward my enemy. When I tried to grip it, I felt a sharp pain in my hand and it dawned on me that I must have broken my hand when I was maiming that demon, probably because I was holding the daggers wrong.

I'll have to listen to Nicolas more.

And even as I threw myself into the warlock, startling him and sending us both flying into the sand, a few other aches and pains were starting up. As we hit the ground, I leaned my arm with the hurt hand—since I couldn't really use that dagger anyway—into the guy's throat and held the other dagger back and ready to strike.

My rage had passed though. Even if his eyes were all glowy and evil and he was nothing more than a rotting husk of what he had been, he was still a person. He'd never assaulted my world.

He stared up at me in surprise, though as I hesitated, his face grew calm and then he arched an eyebrow. When he spoke, his voice was strained and rasped more than before, from the pressure on his vocal cords. "You do realize I do not need to breathe, yes?"

Even as the realization of that hit me, I felt his boney fingers digging into my sides and I screamed out. Once his fingers had broken my flesh, his flexed them out, dragging them through my muscles and it felt like I was being torn apart. As I was overwhelmed with pain, the warlock brought his foot up between the two of us and kicked me off of him.

Despite getting flung off things, hitting my head, breaking my ankle, getting poisoned, I'd never actually been hurt this badly before. I think he'd cracked a few of my ribs based on the way my torso was hurting and it was terrifying to see myself surrounded by so much blood.

The warlock rose to his feet and brushed the sand off his robes before walking over and picking up his staff—I guess it flew out of his hands when I tackled him. My blood smeared against the shaft of the staff and I felt myself pale as I watched it drip from his fingers as he sauntered over to me casually. I tried to get a better grip on my daggers, but his foot came down on my hurt hand and while I may have had qualms with killing him, he obviously had none in regards to finishing me off.

He squatted down next to me, laying his staff across his knees. "Now then. I believe you were going to tell me where my dragon is?"

"He…" I felt so trapped. I didn't know where Brath was and even I tried to 'show' the Forsaken to him, I had a feeling he'd be killing me off before I could turn the tables.

I was going to die.

And even as I realized that, it dawned on me that it was okay. Michel and the others would be able to save my world, so I wasn't responsible for getting help anymore. I just had to worry about me, now.

Suddenly, I wasn't scared. I mean, as much as I want to believe that Greg is out there somewhere, he's probably not. Bethany and my parents are probably gone, too. Like Nicolas said, my town is gone, so there's no one for me to try to get back to.

I have nothing to lose, so what does it matter if I die?

Not to say I want to, but…it's like, if I screw up, the repercussions won't leave me haunting some place with regret, you know?

My hand was already broken, so I gave up on it. If I made it out, I'd harass Clara and Neesera to heal me, or take my chances with Azerothian cancer and chug a few potions. I braced myself and then shifted quickly, sending a kick to the warlock's shoulder. He hadn't been expecting retaliation, though he managed to dodge my attack.

However, his foot had slid off my hand and I took that moment to roll away from him, and grab up my daggers again. I don't know what made me do an extra roll, but even as I stumbled onto my feet I heard his staff smack into the sand where I'd been seconds before. I guess he gave up on spells.

I whirled around and faced him. I could barely stay on my feet though. Sand was in the wounds from his fingers and it hurt like you wouldn't believe. Everything hurt—except my leg, for once.

I had figured that we both knew who was going to be winning that fight, but when I'd looked at the warlock, he'd looked worried, like he expected me to pull out some 'win' card and totally trample him into bone dust. I guess rogues are known for that.

But then, I'm not much of a rogue.

Even as I tried to figure out if I should try to run or see if I couldn't get that staff from him or something, I heard the sound of tree branches cracking and both the warlock and I turned in time to see a large black blur shoot out of the trees and slam into my adversary.

The wave of sand from Brath tackling my adversary into the ground left me with grit in my eyes and lungs and it took me a moment of coughing and blinking before I could finally see and breathe again.

However, when I looked over, somewhat happily expecting to see pieces of said warlock scatted across the beach, maybe bobbing in the surf, I saw that he was sitting on the ground, his legs crossed in front of him as he tried to reset one of his shoulders, and Brath had laid down in his dragon form, his head raised so that they were eye level.

The warlock laughed about something and then Brath gave him a toothy grin and half flapped his wings before responding. They weren't fighting. They were just talking.

They were  _friends_.


	28. For the Horde!

"You oughtn't to be walking as you are."

I ignored Brath as I stormed off toward the Exodar. Well. Stormed isn't really the right word. Limped, staggered, dragged my half-conscious, bleeding-out—they said that I wasn't, but why should I trust them?—broken-handed, super pissed off self through sheer will power to get away from Brath and his weird bromance.

Seriously, what the heck?

Apparently Brath's previous owner was all for releasing Brath into the wild, too. Though…I guess he wanted to do it because of all the destruction Brath might cause.

But Brath. He told me that he'd been a prisoner, you know? To a horribly cruel man—which the warlock seemed flattered to have been called—and I'd bought it. Some of it.

Grrr. I think it's like a dragon pick up line for finding a rider or something. I bet Derres used something like that on Nicolas. Or maybe it's just Brath. Maybe he's just that much of a dick. Like, woe is him for being in such a horrible predicament, who ever will save him? I bet he's not even on Nicolas' employer's radar. He's probably not that important.

So why, you might wonder, if Brath was already going to be free, did he make a deal with me and then ride off into the sunset, abandoning his former rider in enemy territory. It was because the warlock told him he knew he wouldn't do that.

I kid you not. The whole reason Brath left his buddy stranded was because he'd told him he didn't think he'd stoop that low.

And apparently they've been doing this back and forth to each other for a while now? Like Mr. Dances-with-Demons actually tried to plague Brath at one point? Like, tried to make him undead. Who does that to friends?

So, as they were telling me this, I was still, you know, sort of waiting for Brath to be like, "Just kidding," and eat that stupid warlock. Did he? No, of course not. They're like best friends in the whole world. Does it matter that I could potentially lose mobility in my hand or that—assuming I don't die from infection from having dead people fingers in my injuries—I will never be able to wear a bikini ever again because of the scars that will no doubt be left around my ribcage  _because_  of said warlock? Well, I mean, not that I'd look great in a bikini anyway, since I am kind of flat and scrawny…but still. Not the point. I still have time to fill out. I think.

I never paid attention in biology.

That is hardly the problem, though! Brath promised to help  _me_. To save my world. And instead he's fraternizing with the guy who just said he was gonna torture me and nearly killed me?

And you know, I just had to ask how all this was possible. I don't even know what I meant. I think I was looking for an answer as to why, just when I'm dealing with being jealous of a little kid, I suddenly find out the one guy I was sort of secretly hoping I could count on, would let me down like this.

They misinterpreted my question to be about how Brath and his owner had ended up in Stormwind to begin with. And they were all giggles to tell me that, like grade school girls talking about a crush.

Just…ugh.

I can so clearly remember fighting this forsaken guy and now he's acting as harmless as a butterfly. A really ugly, dead butterfly, but still. I think everything hurts more, knowing how easily he could have overtaken me and then seeing him like this. At least with Nicolas, he's always a jerk, so you aren't surprised when he whips out his daggers and starts slicing things up.

Anyway.

I got about half way through story time before I just started walking away.

So I guess Mr. Warlock, whose name is Bartholomew Blackheart—he so made up that last name—was gathering reagents for some spell he was going to cast to nullify the power of the reins. And he found out the Alliance had gotten a hold of some of whatever he needed, so he went to the human town in disguise to get them.

I guess there are like these earring-trinket-orb things that you can use to disguise yourself as a different species?

First of all: what? Secondly: no seriously, what? I mean, I could understand if it's like a projected image around you, but then, like if I was disguised as an undead, I have parts where they don't, right? So like, if someone went to grab my rotten arm, wouldn't they feel that there was more flesh there than there should have been? Or does it actually change your physical form? How would that even work?

I know, I know. It's  _magic_.

Off topic.

Well, he got the stuff he needed. Only to, gasp, find out that his BFF was kidnapped by some mysterious creature, no doubt working with the red flight to purge the black dragons from the world. So he mulled about for a day or so and then put up a flyer for help. Yeah. Like what that guard told me to do when I first got to Stormwind and was totally clueless about how to get help? He did it in enemy territory just to get his dragon back. So that he could let his dragon go.

I don't…I can't even begin to understand what is going on between the two of them. They're just so…

Okay, here's a psychotic dragon who wants to destroy the world and a rotting bag of bones—the smell is almost non-existent, oddly enough—who likes demons and torturing people. They're like, both equally evil, or at least they are in each other's eyes—which makes me worry about the sort of things Brath has done in the past—and they're both like total bad asses. But the second you get them together, it's like an episode of My Little Ponies. Love and friendship all the way.

I don't watch that show, by the way. Greg is a Brony, though, and that was another of our forced bonding moments.

Is…was…I don't know.

Now that I'm not staring into the black abyss of death, I don't feel nearly as bleak about my family's odds. Like, maybe it's just dumb to think they're still alive, but at the same time, I think the only reason I was willing to accept they might be gone was because I didn't want to die knowing that they'd always wonder what had happened to me. If that makes sense?

And you know, I do have things to live for. Like getting back to my world and helping rebuild or making sure Fizz doesn't get caught by Nicolas—though realistically I'm sure he can handle himself—or, you know, learning how to skin so that I can make a Brath cloak.

I guess I offended Mr. Blackheart by walking away in the middle of his epic tale of crossing continents in search of his beloved dragon and how apparently he can swim forever because he doesn't have to breathe—creepy—and how he was worried that Brath was being interrogated about…who knows what? I stopped listening.

I have to say: I think I like my zombies mindless. Because he definitely mentioned snacking on someone.

I hate Azeroth. I think the undead might be worse than griffons. And that this world has both? Just no. They both need to be purged. Except for maybe that undead healer from Booty Bay. Hmm…maybe it's less undead that need to be purged and more so warlocks.

Yes. Warlocks and griffons.

And to make it worse, they followed me.

Here I am, barely able to move and trying desperately to out-walk the sound of their voices and they got up and came after me. Since we have a mutual 'friend' I guess that makes Mr. Warlock willing to tolerate my continued existence, because he seemingly forgot how he was totally going to kill me whether I answered his questions or not.

Well, Brath was all insistent that he fly me to the Exodar so that I could get treatment faster. At first, he asked his buddy to patch me up with some first aid techniques, but the warlock was adamant that he doesn't 'fix the things he breaks'.

I wouldn't let him touch me again anyway. As soon as I get bandaged/healed/finish chugging some potions, I'm dragging Nicolas away from the others and he is teaching me how to evade things. Maybe I'll never be able to decapitate a felguard again, but they won't be hitting me either.

That is my new life goal.

I'm so tired of getting hurt. And the only way to fix that is to get better at this whole combat thing. If anything good came out of my duel, it's that I think I finally have the resolve to join the fight. And that the Horde will probably be coming, too.

So, while the duo were stalking me, I told them to stop following me. And the warlock was like, "We could simply be heading in the same general direction. If you were capable of moving with any haste, you'd see that we were going somewhere other than your intended destination."

I think that was supposed to be a joke, but, meh.

I stopped and turned to face them—the warlock still felt wrong and he scared me. His hood had fallen back when I'd tackled him and he hadn't bothered to put it back in place. Half of his face was gone, leaving just his skull showing, and the other half kind of sagged, like the skin was barely attached. Just looking at him kind of made me want to throw up, so instead I focused on Brath, who was still in dragon form.

I have to say, since he was imprisoned on the Exodar for refusing to pay for the damages in the inn, he hasn't gone human much. I'm not really sure why. I mean, the draenei know he can look human, right? So he's not hiding it from anyone, and the draenei will probably tell Nicolas—assuming his employer didn't, which again, means that Brath's not hiding from anyone. I think maybe he's feeling a bit powerless since he was locked up and wandering around in his man-eating form makes him feel stronger or something.

I don't know.

But I was mad and they were annoying and I kind of wanted to get that warlock to go away one way or another. Since it didn't look like Brath would kill him, I knew I couldn't, and I doubted he'd be stupid enough to follow me back to a few guards who could probably take him out, I just glared at Brath and said, "You know, I wouldn't want my world to get in the way of you and your friend's adventures. Maybe you should just go."

However, before I could add something about riding off to the Horde, Brath was suddenly in human form, hugging me. And dear lord that hurt. Air touching my injuries was painful enough, so when actual weight was applied? Ow, ow, ow.

So after hissing for him to let go of me and then him eyeing his robes distastefully seeing as they had my blood on them, he kind of idled near me, like he was actually worried. Mr. Warlock's one remaining eyebrow shot up from this display of affection, too, which made me uneasy. I can't quite say why, though.

Anyway. Brath was quick to argue. "I told you before: I am committed to your aid."

That piqued Mr. Blackheart's interest—I don't know why I call him by his last name…maybe because it distances me from him and makes sure people don't think we're friends?—and Brath explained my world and how we were awaiting news.

"No we're not," I interrupted as he explained everything and he looked at me all confused like. Then in dawned on me that I'd come out here to tell him the awesome news and had gotten a little distracted fending for my life. How inconsiderate of me. So I explained Michel and portals and Zingermarch and they told me I can't pronounce anything to save my life. Brath was mostly insistent on that, relating my attempts to say his full name, which resulted in both of them laughing at me.

I don't think I can adequately explain the wrongness of the whole situation. That Forsaken guy…I literally meant as much to him as an ant might to me. The only reason he wasn't killing me was because of Brath and yet he acted like we could all just laugh together? While part of me was indignant, another part of me was also kind of scared. Like Brath might say, "Just kidding," only mean it about me and that the two of them would tear me apart.

I have to say it was actually kind of hard not to panic as the two carried on casual conversation. However, Brath mentioned that he needed to escape to my world and suddenly, everything changed.

Well, I not quite sure what happened next. There was a question about when this would be happening and when I mentioned talk of heading out as soon as possible and taking no more than a month to reach Zangarmarsh, as I'd been corrected, suddenly Mr. Blackheart was walking back into the ocean—apparently he'd been on the island for a few days wandering around, hence why he was dry when he attacked me—and telling us that he could meet us as some dark portal in three weeks time at worst. And he smiled and waved as he disappeared into the water. Like he hadn't just beat the crap out of me and we were all good friends.

I really don't want to ever see him again, but I guess he's going to the Horde to get more help for my world? As a favor to Brath? I wonder what Brath did that made Mr. Blackheart so willing to help him. I'm kind of too scared to ask because I'm really beginning to think that Brath might be an honest to god monster.

Or maybe he just knows how to manipulate monsters.

All I know is that I didn't want to think about that sort of stuff and so I tried to play it off. As I grumbled something about letting the jerk leave in one piece when I was barely in one, Brath leaned against me carefully, so as not to make me hurt too much worse, and nuzzled my hair.

"If you want me to kill him, I can catch him on the far shore. Really, though, we could use the Horde's help with your world."

I stared out at the waters where the warlock had disappeared, thinking about how giddy the two of them had been together. How fondly they had shared memories and how highly they'd seemed to regard one another. After all that, Brath was willing to kill the guy on my word?

He took my silence as anger and nuzzled me again, pausing to breathe in my hair. "Bartholomew is a special kind of creature. Loyal to very few. He views me as a kindred spirit and, while I could have killed him when I interrupted your fight, I think this will be a better way of gaining more support for our cause than trying to persuade your little goblin friend to walk into Orgrimmar and ask for assistance."

Slowly, I turned to stare up at Brath and saw that he had a dark, amused look in his face as he tilted his head to inspect me. I was speechless. Brath really, truly is evil.

And yet I still would rather trust his logic for getting allies than anyone else I can think of. Whatever he's up to, it's self serving and he's not gonna screw me over so long as our goals are the same. And right now, we both need to get to and save my world. If he thinks we need the Horde, then we might as well recruit them.

He ran his fingers down my cheek and then knelt beside me, offering to let me slouch onto his back. "Now then, do let me take you back to the Exodar? You really should see a healer, and I doubt you'd be able to hold on if I flew you there."


	29. Shattrath

So. It's been a while since I've had time to really consider what's going on. Apparently being injured just means that Nicolas will push harder during my training—something about if you're hurt, the enemy isn't going to slack off and let you walk away? Well, Nicolas may be my trainer, but he sure feels like an enemy most of the time, so I can buy that.

But, since I was pretty much stomped into the ground—face rolled as Michel says—by that warlock, a lot of things have happened.

First of all, Blood Elves scare the crap out of me. I'll get to them later, but…Aaaah. Why? Why couldn't they be Legolas elves? I mean, I guess they're pretty, if you can get past the glowy devil eyes and the fact that they feel like demons—so remember that wrongness I'm always going on about in reference to demons? Apparently my kind—so weird saying that, but Michel feels it, too—are good at sensing something called Fel energy. So…warlocks, demons, corrupted anything, Blood Elves.

Too bad we can't tell which it is, you know, because when we showed up in Shattrath—we got there, by the way—there were a bunch of elves running around and both Michel and I freaked out. Before we saw them. And even after, because we didn't realize they were what was triggering our demon sense. I mean, we could tell there was something  _wrong_  with them, but we sort of thought there were additional wrong things and kept looking for felguards. Well, I was. I guess Michel was searching for something called a pit lord, which will apparently make my heart just give up and die if I ever see one.

Michel has such overwhelming confidence in my ability to handle scary crap.

I didn't die from being stuck in a city with the elves, did I?

Anyway. Backing up a bit.

I was pretty mangled by that warlock and Brath carried me to the Exodar. We'd almost gotten to the area outside the entrance of the ship, where the woods tapered off and this group of new vindicators or whatever trained—they had a first aid station—when I heard someone calling my name and I turn to see Eric, good, nice Eric, trotting up to us from the edge of the woods.

Now, my muddled mind would not have wondered much about this chance meeting, had Eric been wearing his clothes. As it was, he was down to his pants—which were unlaced around the waist—and had his robe and socks slung over an arm as he carried his shoes.

It would so figure. The one genuinely nice guy is some freaky pervert.

I mean, why strip down in the middle of the woods? There are baths in the Exodar. And it's not like he's some ripped guy, like Nicolas or Brath, who look good wandering around without a shirt. He's scrawny. Like my brother.

I guess that's because he's a mage and he focuses more on magic than physical prowess, but still.

So, in my foggy, near deathness, I just kinda stared at his weak pectorals for a minute before he realized what I was staring at.

Then all of a sudden, his questions about what had happened were silenced and he was jerkily pulling his clothes back on and offering something about he'd been going for a run. Uh, huh. I bet if I asked Clara, naked running through woods filled with giant, man eating cats would not be normal.

Whatever.

Even that, I could have dealt with, you know? I mean, people can be weird and you can still be friends with them. It was what happened next that has me kind of avoiding alone time with Eric.

We got to that first aid station and the draenei nurses—priestesses?—were quick to take me to a little screened in area where the guys couldn't see me and fling off my shirt so that they could see my injuries better. One lady set my hand while the other channeled healing magic into my injuries, after cleaning them out. I kind of insisted on that, not wanting my injuries to be healed with dead people bits in them. That would just scream infection, you know? And it's not paranoid. If he was rotting—he clearly was—it's likely that something fell off during our fight, right?

Eww….

Anyway. So, they gave me a different shirt to wear after they'd both spent their energies healing the worst of my stab wounds, breaks, and bruises—though, again, with my magic resistance, they had to leave quite a few scrapes and stuff because they were just worn out from what they did manage to heal.

Well, as I'm walking out, I see Eric and Brath standing a few feet away, not talking. Well, Eric had my old shirt…and he was smelling it. Like, his nose was buried in the fabric.

So creepy.

I kind of edged around so that Brath was between the two of us, and the nutjob didn't even get that I was freaked out about  _him_. Instead, he just looked up and asked me where the forsaken had gone. I just sort of assumed Brath had filled him in—well, partially anyway, as Brath likes to tell people just enough to make them freak out a little—and shrugged and said that we would be meeting Horde at the Dark Portal apparently.

You know that look your best friend gives you when you tell them you invited that one guy to your party, only to find out that they had a thing and apparently someone's leaving in a body bag if the two of them are forced into the same room? That's sort of the look Eric gave me when I mentioned the Horde.

The Alliance really don't like them. That Forsaken guy was pretty brutal…and I guess orcs are worse? I dunno. I mean, they were explaining things to me, but it just seems more like cultures clashing than true good or evil.

Anyway. When the three of us wandered back to where the others were—Eric explained that he'd gotten a little aggrivated at some vindicators, hence his leaving the others and going off for a run—we found that Fizz and Maevlen were spellcrafting a portal to take Michel and me to Shattrath.

Since Eric's antagonist was gone, he rejoined them and that left me and Brath to find the others. Who were at the training dummies of course. Michel was being all impressed by Nicolas' super awesome attacks against inanimate objects and I think Brath may actually have cuddly feelings toward me because I asked him, "How much would the kid love him if you just ran over there and bit off one of that prick's arms?"

I guess he likes the thought that I like the thought of him maiming things. I don't really, but…eh. I'm tired of fighting the details.

Well, when we showed up, I guess I had a black eye—from my thrashing, though I don't really remember getting hit in the face—and some other bruises and that was enough to tear Clara and Neesera away from Michel and they hurried over, wasting their magic on some of my injuries as they asked what had happened.

Well, I was all grumbly as I told them that Brath had 'secured' some Horde assistance. At first, it looked like it might be Booty Bay all over again—with Clara and Nicolas, anyway, since Neesera is just awesome—but then Michel was all, "Oh that's a good idea. We can be a neutral faction."

Still a little fuzzy on what that means, but it made Clara and Nicolas back off, so yay.

Over the next three weeks, Nicolas buckled down on my training, Brath learned that he couldn't really taunt Nicolas because the rogue doesn't mind going against orders and just killing him a dragon and in his irritation Brath flew off to find that warlock to let him know to meet us in Shattrath, not the Dark Portal.

Neesera spent her time organizing things—that's super vague, I know, but she's been like finding people to watch her house and shop and she found some guys to make Michel and I better clothes/armor. We're both in leather now, though Michel keeps insisting he wants to be a warrior, so he needs better armor. But no one really wants him to fight, you know? Since he  _is_  a kid, everyone—me included—will feel especially bad if he gets impaled by something.

I was missing Brath and Nicolas picked up on that and was even harder on me.

But! I can now say that I hold my daggers right. Most of the time. And I'm getting better at dodging things, sort of. Like I can dodge Michel and Clara, but not Nicolas. I doubt I'll ever be able to evade him. At first, I was kind of upset because Michel made some offhanded comment about how slow I am in the learning department—mainly because I agreed with him—but then Nicolas just lectured us both on how it takes years to get to where he is and a bunch of stuff. I kept waiting for him to say that he had to walk uphill to school both ways.

I didn't think he was that old, but I guess he's thirty four? He doesn't look it and I guess that's not that old anyway. He was quick to point out that 'my dragon' is much older than he is when both Michel and I made these faces implying he was ancient.

And I guess when I'm about thirty I'll be as good as he is—assuming I live that long?—so that was sort of uplifting, I guess. Though, I don't really have years to get that good, since I need to save my world now.

That was another thing he was quick to lecture us on. Patience. He wanted us to know that we wouldn't be stepping into our world and just tada! World saved. It would take months or even years to push back the demons fully and we needed to get used to that notion now so that we wouldn't be crushed with disappointment later.

I think I like him more when he's just a jerk than when he's an informative jerk.

Well, without Brath around, life was pretty boring. I mean, you need conflict for a good story, right? We didn't have much while he was gone. Things went  _smoothly_.

Michel's a good kid. I feel bad that I was so jealous of him at first, because, while he may look at everyone else around us like they're gods, he has an odd sort of respect for me, too. It's like we're family, because we're from the same world—we even both have brown hair, hazel eyes, and freckles. I didn't used to have those before I came to Azeroth. Oh, and by the way, I heard Clara and Eric talking, and they're wondering if my 'human species' is very different from theirs, since I have a smaller frame than Clara and I guess they think Michel has a less buff frame than the human kids his age here. I didn't think we looked that different, but whatever. I guess we'll find out when we get back to my world.

Back to Michel, though. He teaches me about Azeroth—the stuff that no one else here would think I'd need to know, like phrases like face roll and stuff—and I've been sort of helping him find the differences in the game world and the real one.

And we both think it'd be cool to learn magic, but I mean, we have to be realistic.

Well, I thought that, but…

Okay. So. Our mage trio finally got a working portal to Shattrath—I guess with the help of some locals holding the portal from their end—and it was time to move forward.

I was really sad, because Maevlen didn't come with us. I guess he's working on a portal from the Exodar straight to my world, but my group is an exploratory one, so we're like the scouts, going in first. Because it'd be too much of a pain to get all the vindicators to go from the Exodar to Shattrath to some abandoned portal in Zangarmarsh.

That's what Eric had been going for his run for, apparently. The vindicators had told them to screw a portal for Michel and me and just make one for them to invade our world with their holy righteousness. I shouldn't say invade, but…yeah. I don't like that one guy.

Shattrath is so pretty, by the way. I mean, it's got a lot of broken buildings, and architecture I've never seen before, but it's just…other-worldly. Ha. And it feels kind of like an old European castle might, I think—I admit, I've never been to one in person. But it's like, you can feel that so much history has happened there and that it's withstood all that, so it's not going to just crumble away if a building or two get a few cracks.

And even with all the elves running around, there's this underlying peace. I guess that's the naaru? They're like angels or something. I don't really know.

I suppose that I should go try to find my way to the Aldor's Rise, since apparently there are way less elves there—is it racist that I want to avoid them? I don't mean to be. It's just that that Fel taint of theirs makes me think that I'm about to get maimed by a demon whenever one runs by. And no one knows how to dull that sense down a bit. Or make it register different things  _as_  different things.

And taking portals really takes a lot out of you.

That's a little off topic, but I just wanted to say that maybe if I wasn't so worn out, I would be able to tell the difference. I mean, Michel pretty much passed out as soon as we got here and Nicolas carried him off on his back—they actually looked cute, like father and son sort of.

I was heading with them, but I got distracted. Looking for Brath. I guess he's not here yet.

However, as I was wandering around, this chipper little, high pitched voice interrupted my growing panic that I was horribly lost. When I turned around, it took a minute of searching before I realized to look down and found this tiny little, huge eared, green haired woman—gnome, according to my journal—standing at my feet. She had a huge sword—for her—strapped to her back, along with what I guess is a shield. Like, I think it would still be considered a sword if I held it. She was in this meticulously worked metal armor and her hands were on her hips as she craned her giant heat back so that she could look up at me.

"You from that other-world?" When I wasn't sure whether she meant Earth or Azeroth—since you know, I guess Shattrath is in a third world?—she let one of her hands fall down to her side. "You know Neesera?"

When I nodded, she grinned and offered me a quick bow. "Cistern Wobblebracket at your service. Call me Cisty."

I gave her an awkward bow and introduced myself and in no time she was leading me through the city, to the Aldor's Rise. I really couldn't believe it. I'd known Neesera was working on getting things together, but I hadn't considered that she'd been trying to expand our group, as well. I had to wonder if there were many more people who'd be showing up and if we'd even need the Horde's help after all.

Then it occurred to me that maybe Cisty was a denizen of Shattrath and had just been sent to find little, lost me. I wanted to casually work in my question as she talked to me about how she liked my daggers—Nicolas had bought me some new ones just before we headed out here, saying I needed something that would actually do damage—but, like I said, I was really tired and so my tact left me taking advantage of a lull which she probably was hoping I'd use to comment on her weapon/armor. "So…are you going to be going to my world with us?"

Cisty's giant blue eyes widened for a moment and then she giggled and then flexed at me, even as we stepped up onto this freaky, magical elevator. "Sweetheart, I'm your tank."


	30. This Can't Be Happening

Cisty and I ended up waiting for Brath to get to Shattrath and, like he said he would, he brought Horde with him, including that insufferable warlock. I was kind of hoping to maybe see some more familiar faces from Booty Bay, but…yeah. All new faces. Aside from the warlock, of course.

It's been maybe two weeks since we left Shattrath, but it feels like it could have been years. Um. Cisty…you might think that she'd be intimidated traveling with so many enemies, right? But she wasn't. And when that warlock made some snide comment, she challenged him to a duel and…I think that's one of my bright spots right there. Seeing him get his butt kicked.

Anyway, the Horde kind of kept to themselves. There's four of them, aside from Mr. Blackheart, but I can't remember their names to save my…

I don't think they all gave me their names anyway. Even though their tauren guy could tell that I wasn't like the humans they were used to fighting, they're still not super keen on helping me.

I'm sorry, I can't…

I wonder if they said screw it and went back…?

Um…

So, I guess I should address the big issue, right?

I'm back in my world. The portal thing worked. They didn't want to come through. The Horde. They want to wait for back up.

But what they don't get is it has always been a matter of time, right? The Burning Legion isn't just sitting back waiting for us to come to them. They have an agenda. And now that they have Nicolas and Michel and everyone? Fizz? Neesera?

I don't even know if they're alive.

Brath dragged his feet and it took almost a week of waiting before he showed up and then it took time to fly to this stupid portal. And when we got here, the camp was trashed and that stupid troll can't tell how much of it was done by wild animals versus something else. He's like a hunter or something, so he's supposed to know how to tell these things, but he can't and I don't know where they took them or how to get anyone back and…

It gets worse.

Well, common sense would say that they went through the portal right? Like, maybe they had to flee through there to escape or something. So I thought we should go through to look for them.

But then there's that bad blood between the Horde and Alliance. They're not gonna go charging in, risking their lives for their enemies. Worst case scenario, they just lost some people they'd have to kill later, right?

And Cisty wants to hang back, too. To get a  _feel_  for the situation. Newsflash. We have a feel for it. Our friends are in danger and need help. What more  _feel_  do we need?

The, um, tauren guy. He's a shaman, like Neesera. He did something with the fire and it was hard to breathe because the smoke billowed out and swirled all around the camp and then these images showed up. Nicolas was showing Michel how to use a blade so that he could defend himself. And Eric and Fizz were talking and Neesera was meditating and Clara was cooking dinner, I guess.

And then they all looked up, toward the portal.

And…

Maybe he didn't realize this is Azeroth? Or he thought they were working for the demons or…something. It doesn't make sense. Why would he…?

I know that Michel's dad said there were traitors, but…how can anyone work for the creatures destroying our world? How?

Nicolas got up, saying something, and offered his hand to him…and he just attacked him. He attacked Nicolas and then there were demons and everyone was fighting.

And Eric turned into a werewolf. Which I guess explains the stripping down to run through the woods and sniffing my clothes. But…

It would figure…the images faded out before we could even see who won the fight. But, you know, I lose anyway, right?

Because the guy who walked through the portal and led the demons?

It was Greg.

 


	31. Looking Back

So…I should apologize. Last time, I was…upset.

Not that I'm not now. But, well.

I think it's important to get the details right. I don't know why. I mean, if I succeed it's not like anyone has to follow in my footsteps or anything. And to say it's for history seems kind of arrogant.

I don't know. I just need to review what's happened.

It helps me focus, I think.

The portal they made led to New York, of all places, so I'm totally in enemy territory. And if I want to find the others, I'm gonna need to keep my wits together. So it's time to think.

To focus.

Last time, I left a lot of stuff out.

Like the only reason Cisty and I stayed in Shattrath was because I was too focused on  _not_  riding a gryphon. Since Brath wasn't there yet, everyone was totally fine with just leaving him a message and heading out.

And honestly? At first I kind of was, too. Because, well, I'd say I have a world to save, but really it was just that I wasn't looking forward to seeing him be all buddy buddy with Mr. Blackheart again, even if it is just an act. Or seeing Mr. Blackheart again in general.

Finding out that that warlock was tragically trampled to death by some large creature would not bother me much. And the little humanitarian in me would be drowned out by the general cheering of the rest of my conscience, so it'd be okay. Too bad he seems incapable of dying…again anyway.

Anyway. We were packing up and Michel asked who he was going to be flying with, since, you know, he has no flying mount. Or mount of any kind really. Not my point. Well, that made everybody pause.

Turns out Fizz has a magic carpet—they really have everything in Azeroth—but he won't be pulling an Aladdin anytime soon because the carpet doesn't move right if you add bodies? Like, it has a certain way it's supposed to ripple through the air and if there's more than one person, it offsets it and it won't even lift off the ground.

Neesera has a helicoptor thing. She made it. Dear god, she could be a rocket scientist with her inventions and you wouldn't know it behind that quiet smile and sweet demeanor. Not that rocket scientists are all condescending jerks or anything. I'm sure they're nice… She just doesn't seem the type, right?

Anyway, her machine is pretty much built for one person. She has all these buttons and levers she has to keep up with to stay in the air and so she can't afford even little Michel to be with her in the cockpit. She said someone could ride on the landing ski-looking things, but that just seemed like a recipe for disaster.

Well, Clara was a bit too quick to say that she was very sorry but Nicolas was riding with her. I guess with Derres gone, he didn't have a mount either. So that tied up one gryphon, though she did suggest that worst case scenario, Michel could ride Muffins with her. Not that I think gryphons deserve any type of pity or anything, but I think it would be hard on it to go from a one person mount to a three person one.

Cisty and Eric both ride gryphons. So they said it would be okay if one of each of us non-Azerothian humans doubled up with them.

And that was when it hit me that they expected me to get on a gryphon.

Um, no. I'd rather die.

Well, Clara saw the look on my face and started asking how bad my allergy was—I'd totally forgotten about the feather thing, so I was happy she mentioned it—and then Eric was all like, "Well, I can try to cast an anti-itching spell," or something.

In retrospect, he's been so nice. But, at the time, I didn't know he was a werewolf, so I was still thinking he was like super creepy and I didn't want to ride with him. So I just said that I really wanted to wait for Brath. Let them think what they want, Clara and Nicolas already seem to think that I'm banging a dragon—how would that even work? He's a giant lizard. I mean, yeah, I guess he looks human in his human form, so he probably has all the parts, but…

I'm gonna stop that train of thought right there. The last thing I need is to get hot and bothered every time I look at Brath and picture him naked or something. He'd totally pick up on that and my life would be even more hellish than it is now.

Anyway. So I was letting them think I was waiting for Brath for whatever reasons their minds might come up with. Well, Eric seemed oddly disappointed that I wasn't jumping up and down to go with them, but Fizz stepped in and suggested it might be good for some of us to wait for the Horde, so that they didn't get all up in arms that they were expected to just tag along after us.

When he said that, Nicolas gave him this look and I just knew that was gonna end poorly if Fizz suggested he stay with me. So I volunteered Cisty, saying that Eric—so he wouldn't suggest  _he_  stay with me—and Fizz would probably both be needed to open the port.

So I'm pretty sure Nicolas has figured out that Fizz is somehow affiliated with the Horde and that I know about it. Stupid rogues, using their people reading skills, or whatever…

Oh, you may be wondering how horrible I am for being willing to let Michel ride with someone I thought was a pervert, but I was thinking that, you know, perverts are generally kind of…specified in their perverseness? So like, if Eric was into young women, he probably wouldn't do anything to a little boy?

And you know, since he isn't some pervert freak, my assumptions don't really matter, anyway. I really hope he never realizes that I thought he was creepy… I really hope he's okay.

Him and everyone else.

Anyway, so Cisty and I stayed behind and waited.

And waited and waited and waited.

We were starting to talk about leaving without the Horde in the next day or so—it didn't help that I could totally see that dumb dragon riding off into the sunset with Mr. Blackheart, even if he did say he was just using him and saying screw saving some other world. I mean, who's to say he's not using me? I mean, duh he is.

Argh. Whenever it comes to Brath, thinking only leaves me with a headache.

So we were ready to leave if they didn't show up in the next day or so.

And of course, as soon as we made an ultimatum, suddenly they're there. And by they, I mean that wall of a creature, the tauren shaman. I guess he was the only one of them who befriended the Aldor—which we hadn't even considered being a problem—and so he was the unlucky guy who had to search the whole terrace for us. I guess he had to ask a bunch of the guards for us, too, and they gave him a really hard time because it's super weird for a Horde member to be actively looking for Alliance.

So we met with him and then there was talk of meeting with the others and I was really worried I was going to have to go back to the elf-riddled part of the city and have my fel-dar going off like crazy again.

But after a really confusing conversation, Cisty agreed to go get the others and it was decided that since windriders don't have feathers, I could ride out of the city with the tauren guy—who never gave me his name, by the way; I totally asked and he just laughed, patted my head and told me to get on his mount. Maybe he didn't understand me? He seemed to have a bit of trouble with common and Cisty actually spoke orcish to him.

…Which wouldn't make sense, since I can speak whatever language I'm spoken to… So I guess he really was just avoiding giving me information. Do he and the other Horde guys think I'm like some sort of Alliance spy or something?

Hm.

Anyway.

So we rode out to the outside of the city and he went to meditating while his freaky scorpion-lion-bat eyed me like it could use a meal. It was kind of following me around, too. Like, I'd move a little and then let my gaze wander, and when I'd look back, it'd have edged up next to me again, it's paws flexing its claws in the dirt like it might pounce.

The tauren guy never seemed to notice my discomfort.

Just as I was edging away from that thing for like the seventh time, suddenly there was a swooshing sound accompanied with snapping branches and shouts and the tauren guy shot to his feet and his windrider hissed and hunched low to the ground.

But before I could even react—maybe grab my daggers or something—suddenly I was up in the air, being hugged rather tightly and twirled around.

When my world finally stopped spinning, I was still being crushed against Brath's toned chest and he was going on about having missed me and knowing that I must have been horribly lonely without him—it's like he has to be  _more_  annoying when Mr. Blackheart's around. Though…I kind of wouldn't mind having him around right now…I shouldn't have run through the portal without him.

While he went on, I kind of looked around and found that my newfound traveling companions were all staring at us and that they'd pretty much come to their judgments about me and Brath.

The burly orc—I have never used burly to describe someone before, but it is like  _the_  word to use when talking about orcs—looked kind of disgusted. He's a warrior and our other 'tank', I guess.

So, a side note. I recognize that term from when my brother—

From when my brother and his friends would talk about the game. I never had a clue what it meant, but there's some kind of cool parallels here. Apparently the raiders—like Nicolas and the others—use the same terms for their fighting that gamers in my world use? So like, if a gamer were talking to these guys, they'd be all LoSing and AoEing and watching for pats and mobs.

I have no clue what I just said, but I recognize it. You know, like how you might not be able to speak Japanese, but you can recognize it when you hear it?

Yeah. So Cisty and that orc guy are tanks. And then I mentioned the troll hunter. And beside them, there was an orcish woman. I think she's another rogue.

Apparently the reason most of them came—were 'chosen' as Mr. Blackheart implied—was because aside from him and the shaman, they don't rely on magic.

Well, seeing as they weren't so keen on introductions, we pretty much left as soon as Brath would bother to set me down and shift to a form I could ride.

...

And I'm picturing Brath naked.

Here's hoping he'll be a scaly lizard the next time I see him, because otherwise, I'm totally gonna end up undressing him with my eyes…

I don't know what's wrong with me. I mean, everyone's in danger and all I can think about is how right now I'd really like to be cuddling up next to the dragon I left back in Zangarmarsh.

I've always sort of prided myself on not being overly dependent on others. I mean, yeah, my parents give—gave—me money for gas and stuff, but I've never needed a guy around to make me feel better. Or maybe I did. I mean, there was my dad. I totally wanted him back in the house when the demons first came. Just to know he was there would have made it so much less scary. Him or Greg.

But then, if they'd been there, I never would have had the guts to come to Azeroth.

I guess it's just…I don't know. It's not that I  _needed_  them, but I did  _want_  them around? And now that I can't have either of them, I just… I no longer have any dependable male figures in my life, so I'm grasping at sociopaths?

God, that sounds pathetic.

And, you know, like I said before, maybe Greg has a good reason for being with the demons. Maybe he's undercover or it was staged or…something.

He can't be a bad guy. I mean, this whole time, while everyone's been so busy making sure not to call themselves heroes, the only person I ever really, truly considered one, was him.


	32. My World

I've been back in my world for about two days now, I think.

I'm hungry and tired and really mad at Brath. I thought he would come after me, you know? He did promise to help my world, so where is he? Probably snuggling with that dumb corpse…

Ugh, even with his part of the picture ignored, I have so many problems. Well, kind of? So, I think I said before that this is New York. If I didn't…yeah. I don't really understand how these portals are connected to everything and why I'd end up at X instead of Y, but you know what? I'm not some great thinker who'll ever figure that out.

I'd describe what it looks like, but if you just think of pretty much every end-of-the-world movie out there, they always seem to take place in New York. Just imagine that, minus the aliens or Godzilla or whatever it was that was wreaking havoc.

So, the portal lets you into what I think is Fox News studios. That or someone dragged some of their logo stuff near it. Whatever. I'm just glad it's in a building, because that makes it easy to duck for cover and sneak around and stuff.

Oh, and the portal is active, right? So it doesn't do any fluctuating stuff—I don't think—when someone comes through it, so if you're careful, no one notices.

Well, when I came through the portal, I was sort of just charging forward, figuring I'd have a lot of space and…yeah. Totally slammed me leg—yes, the one that always gets hurt—into a piece of furniture.

And then I toppled over said piece of furniture and created this huge cloud of dust. Well, as I was coughing and sputtering and gasping I realized that I wasn't the only one doing so. So I looked up and came nose to long-crooked nose with this little gremlin looking thing. Imp, I think they're called.

He was kind of shimmery and all and it took both of us a moment to realize what had happened. As it dawned on me that I'd _already_  been discovered by the enemy and he realized there still  _was_  an enemy, we both sort of looked toward the portal, expecting  _something_  to come through after me.

When nothing happened, I heard this disgusting little cackled and looked to see the imp was beginning to summon fire.

I've taken on a felguard, right? I may not remember what I was doing, but I took out a critter a lot bigger than that imp. And if I didn't do anything, I was going to get killed before I could find the others.

So I darted forward. My intent was…I don't know. I knew I needed to kill it, right? But I wasn't expecting it to just…stand there. I guess it was one of the dumb ones or something. Or that it thought it's cast would work and it would stop me? I don't know but that sucker didn't move and when my blade thwacked into its neck, I found almost no resistance.

As its head arced through the air, it was really hard for me not to throw up. First of all, I hadn't realized me daggers were that sharp. Holy crap.

Well, as I was getting used to the fact that I was going to be killing a lot of things, it dawned on me that I'd seen the little guy at all. I mean, this is my world. The demons are invisible.

Then it occurred to me that it must have been the dust. For once, luck was actually on my side. When I kicked up all that dust, it landed on the demon and I was able to tell where he was. Honestly, even when I thought that, it didn't seem super plausible, but what else was I supposed to think?

That was when I remembered that the demons are invisible and panicked that I might already be surrounded. So I backed myself into a corner and listened for footfalls or snickers—since they always seem to like to laugh at us—or anything that might let me know they were there.

I'm not sure how long I waited there, expecting some axe or sword to be swinging into me at any second. It could have been ten minutes or ten years. Finally it dawned on me that even if I started off alone, someone was bound to come check up on that imp—well, assuming it was there to guard the portal—and then I'd have pretty much waited for something to come kill me.

So I snuck out of the room and spent like half the day searching the building. I found a few rooms with windows—a lot of rooms with windows—but I didn't go near any of them. I mean, I'd look in to see if maybe Michel or someone was in there, but I wasn't having any luck finding anyone. And I didn't want a demon to look up at the windows and see me, so…yeah.

You know how I was worried before that by the time I made it back to Earth, I wouldn't be me anymore?

…

When I made it to the street level, after I was sure no one was in that building, I was sort of hunched next to this car that had apparently been flung through the wall, looking out at the street. I was trying to think which building I should search next, when I heard a thudding of boots.

It wasn't super close, so I hunched down and looked toward it and…

I couldn't see-see them, like I could Mr. Darkheart's demon. But they were shimmery, like that imp. Sort of like when you do the color contour lines on a photo and then fade the rest of the color?

There were five of them marching along, weapons held ready, scanning the area.

I waited until they were past me before I darted toward the street and started tailing them. I don't know how I was able to see them. I mean, I shouldn't be able to, right?

But then, I remember that it seemed easier for the draenei women to heal me after Mr. Blackheart kicked my butt. I'd just assumed that they'd started with stronger spells because of my anti-magic reputation, but…

Do you think being in a world steeped with magic made me more…intune with magic or something? But then…why wasn't anyone able to see the demons in those images from the window?

Like I said, I'm not some great thinker. I decided to go with the answer had to do with magic.

And so I followed them because they were obviously looking for something and, while it occurred they might be looking for me, I just thought maybe they were searching for other survivors and that by following them I could…I don't know, take on the five of them at once? Call out where they were so that any others could help me take them out?

I didn't know what I'd do, but I figured that it was better than wandering around blindly.

I have to say though, I'm really glad I did. And I'm really glad for Fizz's spell. It translates demonic, too.

They walked a few roads before I tripped on something and then darted behind a mangled car. However, even as I edged around it to avoid the one that was walking toward where I was, another called out to him.

"Something fell, forget it. It happens."

As the one that had headed over to inspect the noise I made turned and started to protest, the one who had been leading them whirled around and marched over to him. He was maybe half a foot taller than the rest of them.

"The one we're looking for wouldn't have made any noise. Forget. It. And move on."

"If he doesn't make noise, how the hell are we going to find him?"

The guy who I guess was in charge didn't like his authority being questioned and he just swung his axe into the other guy. It was brutal. And then the other three joined in and they were hacking away at the corpse with this complete and utter…glee.

Well, it I didn't move a muscle. The last thing I wanted was that blood lust of theirs redirected at me. I  _really_  don't know how I killed one of those.

When they finally started moving again—every block or so, they'd fan out and peer in the buildings, but they weren't really looking. It's like when you go to a restaurant and there's that one waitress who goes above and beyond to do everything she can to make your evening great…and then there's that waitress who acts like it's a chore to refill your water glass. These guys were like that second waitress. Doing the bare minimum of their job to find their target.

I can't help but think their superiors must not really think the guy they're looking for is here, because why send such slackers on an important mission? Maybe they thought that one guy would push them to do their jobs…

Lucky for me that backfired.

Well, I was going to just follow them until either they figured me out or they found who they were looking for, but as I was glancing over the buildings—trying to put a bit more care in my search than the demons' in theirs—I noticed this flitting motion in one of the broken windows.

I let the demons go on their way and behind this broken down truck, watching the window. Just when I was thinking that I'd been seeing things, or that maybe something really had fallen—everything was so broken. Like, there was one streetlight that had been mostly torn off near its top and all that was keeping it up was maybe two or three wires for the lighting. And they were already starting to rust, so it was a matter of time before that broke off and fell to the ground. It was so creepy that the sounds of things collapsing and the thud of the demons' feet seemed to be the only real noises. The wind seemed to scared to even make a breeze.

I digress.

So, I was watching that window and just as I figured it maybe a ceiling fan or something had finally given out and fallen, I saw another movement. It was a squirrel. In the window.

At first I felt really stupid that I'd gotten my hopes up over a rodent—even if it was the first, living, breathing animal I'd seen in my world—but then…it moved too jerkily.

Like it was mechanical.

Which means someone made it, right?

Well, I made my way across the street, after making sure no more demons were nearby, and then hurried into the building.

The squirrel was waiting for me at the top of the stairs. We just kind of stood there, staring at each other for a moment. It reminded me of Neesera's scrapbots. Which gave me all sorts of hope. However, even as I started up the stairs, my eyes locked on its beady little red bulbs, the squirrel charged me with surprising quietness.

I stumbled to the side and the squirrel kept running.

However, even as I tried to figure out what had just happened, it stopped near the door to the street and looked back at me.

It was waiting for me.

So I took off after it.

I have to say, I must have spent three hours following after it, hiding in piles of debris or shattered doorways to avoid the occasional demon patrol. If I lost sight of the squirrel, I just had to sit tight a minute or two and it would come back for me.

Finally, it ran into a building and up the stairs. Up and up and up. To the fourth floor.

There were a few places I had to edge around where the floor had collapsed or sounded ready to, but when I finally made it to the room near the far end of the hall, I nearly forgot the dire silence of my world and cried out in joy.

Before I could catch myself, a dirty hand slapped itself over my mouth. As I reached up to push it away, Neesera rose from the far side of the room, near a boarded up window, and hurried over to me. There was carpet in this room, but I think she was still worried that her hooves might make too much noise.

As she crushed me against her bosom—I swear I heard my ribs cracking—I glanced over my shoulder and stared at Nicolas. Of course it was him they were looking for.

God forbid it be some new hero from my world…

I suppose I should be grateful though. I mean, that these two are alright…that's a good sign, right?

When Neesera finally realized that I need air to breathe, she eased up a bit and Nicolas rustled my hair before dismissing me and heading over to where Neesera had been seated. Neesera looped her arm with mine as she carefully half closed the broken door and then grinned.

"It is good to see you are here. Did many others come? Are you to meet back with them?"

I felt kind of sick. But I gave her a weak smile. "Um…I'm sort of the first scout."

"In other words, no one else is coming? I'd figure as much from the Horde," Nicolas muttered, staring down at all these papers he had scattered across the floor. The mechanical squirrel was near him, dipping a long quill into ink. At first I thought it was really weird, but then it hurried over and started drawing lines across one of the pages.

"We are making a map, yes?" Neesera whispered.

I found myself doing the same, despite being fairly certain that there weren't any creatures nearby to hear us. At first I opened my mouth to say that there were probably faster ways to do it than to have a squirrel go out and map the city, but I stopped myself. I'd been thinking about how some tourist towns have those giant maps with stars saying 'you are here' and stuff, or just like a map from a travel agency, but…I don't know. I guess it was impractical to suppose that we could rely on that. Even if we did have such a map, with buildings collapsed and stuff, certain streets are blocked, so it wouldn't be completely accurate.

As I nodded and commended the idea, to which Nicolas just rolled his eyes, I glanced around the room again. We were in what was left of an office building, though it was an older one, where the windows weren't huge. "Where's everyone else?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Nicolas said, chin cupped as he watched the squirrel dutifully mark off buildings as little squares.

I suddenly felt a bit sick. "You guys got separated?"

As Nicolas gaze slid up to meet mine with a 'you really need to ask that' look in them, Neesera patted my shoulder slowly. "Amy, we have bad news. The portal was a trap."

"Oh!" I felt sick thinking of Greg. "I know!" As Nicolas narrowed his eyes at me, I tried to make hand motions like what the tauren guy had done. "This Horde shaman did this thing…because we didn't know what had happened. And it showed you guys getting attacked. Which is why I came through. To…save…you…"

That was about when it kicked in that my logic was seriously flawed. I broke eye contact and stared at the floor. "Um…the others are waiting for reinforcements or something before coming through."

Neesera hugged me again. "We appreciate it."

That made me feel worse. That's like what you say to a five year old who brings you their almost empty juice box when you say you're thirsty.

"So how much did you see?" Nicolas asked, sounding more than a bit annoyed.

"Um…" I don't know why, but I couldn't tell them that the guy who'd come through was Greg. So I just said 'that guy' as I described what I'd seen. "It looked like you were losing when the spell stopped working."

Neesera grimaced and patted my shoulder gently. "Amy…we don't blame you, okay?" She smiled at me, as though to reassure me and I found myself glancing from one to the other, feeling lost. Did they know that had been my brother who attacked them?

"That letter about traitors was a good way to throw us," Nicolas murmured and as I furrowed my brow, he shook his head in disgust. "Remember how it was Michel's idea to come to this portal?"

I nodded slowly and then stopped.

Neesera scratched the back of her neck slowly as she led me over to the papers and then sat down with Nicolas, patting the ground beside her hooves. "I think…if we had sent the message somewhere that the demons had not reached yet, it would have been different."

"I don't…"

"Michel was working with the demons."

I slumped down. That couldn't be. I mean, he was such a sweet kid. And we really bonded when I showed him my book on the species and…

And told him all the differences between our allies in the game versus real life.

Even as I felt like the entire world might be collapsing on my lungs, Neesera patted my shoulder and smiled. "It's okay. Some are always corrupted by the call of power. We know that not everyone is bad. There's you. And your brother, what was his name…?"

I felt sick as I stared at her reassuring smile.

Has my world already been lost?


	33. Reconnaissance

I've never really cared for that light at the end of the tunnel analogy, but I have to say, today was at least a lantern in the darkness. It might get broken easily, but…I'm glad I was here for it.

Before that little bubble of hope moment, though, things were pretty bleak. Nicolas and I went out to look for Clara, Fizz, and Eric. It's been about three days—it's hard to keep track of time when the sky is always overcast and the light doesn't seem to change much between night and day. It's like those clouds that block the sun also trap whatever light is still down here. I'm kind of worried that this cloud cover was made by something like a nuke—people were always saying that those would kick up a layer of dust or whatever, right?—but I haven't mentioned that to Nicolas or Neesera. I need to. They should know what my world's capable of, especially since so many of my fellow humans seem to be enemies.

Anyway, Neesera's mechanical squirrels—there's like twenty of them total, it turns out, all in different parts of the city, learning the lay of the land—found a building that seems to be a sort of command center for the surviving humans, so they're figuring that that's where our friends were taken.

Nicolas doesn't think they're still alive. And he's really, really angry because of it.

I mean, duh it makes sense he'd be upset about losing his friends, but I think he and Clara might be…a bit more than I realized. So, like, you can't even mention her name in front of him right now without him looking ready to flip out.

Neesera was pretty grim too. But…I think there's still hope.

Yes, the demons are ruthless and all, but there's one thing they're not considering. And Nicolas should be, at least.

Human curiosity.

People from my world have stumbled across real magic users. A healer and two mages. I'm not saying they won't…torture them. But they're gonna want to know how to use magic.

And apparently Greg has at least a little bit of authority among whatever's here.

If he's secretly a good guy—he has to be—then he'll find a way to save them. I think. I mean, he'd have to realize they're from another world and that they'd be a link to getting more help, you know?

And if he's not…Greg's always been really curious. Remember his tinkering with the toaster? There are like a million other examples I could give you of him taking things apart and trying to improve them and stuff. And he played a warlock.

On another of our forced bonding moments, I'd tried to ask him about his character, since it was obvious he was so invested in it. At first he just kind of mumbled some stuff, statistics which I couldn't follow to save my life—I did get that some intellect one makes your spells better, but the rest just kind of flew over my head—but when I asked why a witch—he never corrected me—he got this…look.

I can't describe it. Wistful, longing, gentle? Maybe a little bit of all of those plus something else? And then he looked at me and held his hand out palm up and said, "Wouldn't it be amazing to be able to chase away the cold just by whispering a word and having fire literally at your fingertips?"

I'd stared at my own hand and then shrugged, commenting that I bet I'd just end up burning myself. Greg was not amused.

Anyway, my point is that he would love to use magic. While maybe the demons are already offering to teach him, maybe they're not. Maybe this is his first chance of seeing that that avenue could possibly be open to him and if so, he will totally use it.

I'd bet most anything on that.

I guess I am betting three lives on it, huh?

Nicolas grabbed my shoulder and jerked me closer to the ground. As I looked toward him, drawn out of my thoughts, his glare was almost enough to kill. "Do you want to get caught by a damned demon?"

I glanced around the street. It was empty of other living creatures—there was also somewhat of a lack of corpses, which made me happy. When I looked back at Nicolas I arched my eyebrows. He was so still he almost looked like he wasn't breathing.

"Um, there aren't any here."

He turned his head slowly toward me. "And how would you know?"

"Because…" I drew the word out for a moment and then frowned. "Wait, you can't see them either?"

Nicolas looked ready to smack me. "I'm sorry, I thought we established they were invisible."

My frown deepened and I felt the dirt caked to my cheeks cracking. No matter how hard you tried to stay clean in my world, the dust covering all the broken bits of metal plastered itself to you. In a way, it was great for blending in. But it was also incredibly grimy feeling.

"When I came through the portal, I saw them." I stared at Nicolas. "So…I just figured you guys could see them or something."

"Well we can't," Nicolas muttered. Before he could brush off what I'd said, he eyed me. "How did you see them?"

I shrugged and related my brief encounters with the creatures, suddenly wishing I still had my infrared goggles. Which gave me an idea. Which I quickly snuffed out.

If we could find an old shop that used to sell army supplies, maybe we could find some broken goggles and have Neesera fix them up. However, Greg and the others probably already cleared out any buildings like that. And how would we know where to look in a city we'd never been to before?

I know, I'm so uncultured…

Nicolas started to say something in regards to my seeing the demons, but an explosion in the distance caught both of us offguard. I had no clue where it came from and was immediately freaking out that Neesera was in trouble. However, Nicolas shut me up with a quick, "She's fine," and then told me to move and darted across the street to the building we'd been going for.

I was still super confused about our mission because this wasn't the building with all the people from my world, but at this point, I trust that Nicolas knows what he's doing.

As he hurried into the doors, I checked the street once more to make sure I couldn't see any demons coming out to see what the ruckus was and then I bolted after him. Neesera sent one of her squirrels with us—should something go wrong, she wanted to know where we were so that she could try to save us—and that thing scampered into the building as I made it there.

Its little feet were clacking against the marble floor of the building—some hotel—and so I grabbed it up and carried it. At first, the squirrel tried to get out of my hands, but it stilled after a moment, only its head moving back and forth as it surveyed out surroundings.

Nicolas was already on the stairs. He paused to look at me and point upward before he disappeared around a corner and I sighed. I must have been slowing him down horribly.

As I reached the stairs, I paused and glanced over my shoulder. If Nicolas hadn't been able to see the demons, then why had I been able to? And how long had that lasted? Was it gone already?

I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to feel for any wrongness. While, maybe if I spend the next twenty years of my life—assuming I live that long—honing this skill, I'll someday be able to tell where demons are for miles, for now, all I knew was that there weren't any nearby, ready to consume my soul or whatever it is that they do.

Convinced that we hadn't been followed, I headed up after Nicolas.

This building was surprisingly intact and I could totally imagine businessmen and women in evening gowns sauntering through the halls at some point not that long ago. Before the world ended.

It took me a while to get to the top floor. Even though the stairs were still all there, some of them groaned and I could see cracks in them. While Nicolas must not have worried about them caving beneath him, that was probably because he has the reflexes to get off any broken stairs before they can send him plummeting to his death.

I am not so skilled, so I took my time.

As I thought through all the different things that we could do to save Fizz and the others, I found my ideas echoing the uselessness of the ones I'd been planning to distract the police with all those months ago—it felt like years or maybe even a dream when I'd been back in Charlotte.

As I turned another corner, I came back to my senses as Neesera's squirrel squirmed out of my grasp, thudding with a clang and a whirring noise to the ground and then scampering back the way I'd just come.

Pausing, I glanced up the stairs I was on and say they led to a door to the roof. I really had stopped paying attention. Turning back, I went back to the hallway branching off of the stairway and followed the squirrel to the nearest room, where I found Nicolas already at the window, with one of Neesera's contraptions that reminded me of binoculars.

I edged over to the window as well and peered out. Across the street from the back of the building was the human headquarters. They looked…militant. They had guns, too. Like, I'm not a guns person—

I just realized I'm like literally the worst person to save the world. I don't know about anything that would be useful in combating this stuff.

At least I can behead imps, right? Like that'll help me against any type of gun.

Nicolas smacked my arm and I realized that he was waiting for my input on the situation. I guess I should have been offering that up on my own, right? So I explained what little of guns I knew, like how most could shoot multiple rounds at a time without needing to reload. That sort of vague stuff.

Turns out Azerothian guns aren't nearly as advanced as ours, so Nicolas started cursing and swearing under his breath.

Even as he cursed his way through the alphabet and back, I heard something and stilled. It wasn't the trudging of feet against the floor or the creaking of a door or anything.

It sounded like a roar. A distant, angry roar.

The humans across the street and heard it, too, and I could see them glancing at one another, like they weren't sure if that had been an ally or not. And then it occurred to me.

Half of the guys down there had probably joined the demons thinking there was no other way to survive. And half of them probably didn't know who or what they were supposed to be trusting.

I elbowed Nicolas as I ducked away from the window and gave him a half grin. "I think we can totally get in there without getting shot."

Even as he stared at me with a look of genuine surprise, I continued. "Do you have your maps on you?" He hesitated and then pulled one out of his pack and unfurled it. While the main maps were being sketched by squirrels, Nicolas had been copying his own version, so that he could travel with it, without leaving Neesera blind.

I looked over the different buildings for a moment. They'd marked them off as ones that looked like people had once lived in them—granted a few of those were more hotels than apartment complexes—or if they looked like some sort of shop. I doubted all of their markings were right, but there had to be somewhere nearby…

"Have you come across any clothing shops?" When I looked up to see him staring at me with a look of incredulity, I frowned. "For my plan to work, we need to get rid of these Azerothian clothes."


	34. Evolving Plans

I looked over Nicolas and frowned. Reaching up on my toes, I tried to mess up his newly bleached hair—it'd turned out a bit whiter than I meant it to and I could tell he wasn't pleased with the difference, but was willing to go along with my plan, if it meant saving Clara. They are so a thing.

I have to say, it was a real pain to find any type of water so that I could dye his hair to begin with. In the end, we went back to Neesera and she used like almost all of her energy just to summon a tub of water. That's right, a tub. Because if you're gonna dye hair, it needs to be clean, darn it, and I'm not going to do a botchy job just because the world ended.

After bleaching his hair, I totally sprinkled some dust and dirt on him to make it look more like he hadn't  _just_  done it. I mean, really, it might not matter, but I don't know. I'm nervous and wanted us to be authentically from my world.

And since all those guard guys looked like they hadn't had the opportunity to bathe recently, that means shiny new hair is out.

Nicolas is kind of pissed off, and honestly so am I. You know how I got him to trust me to do that to his hair? I dyed mine red. Like, brilliant, dark, unnatural red. Why not, right? I mean, Brath already butchered it beyond recognition. And I want to look like someone other than me and I would never go for so bold a color, so…yeah.

So I now have crazy red hair and Nicolas is a blondie. And we're both sporting sunglasses. That, with a sort of Men in Black suit on Nicolas makes him utterly unrecognizable. And trust me, it took forever to first find a clothing store that hadn't been looted and then find clothes that weren't completely destroyed by the…destruction.

My descriptives are lacking, I know. But my point is, even though he's a little dusty, Nicolas has some class. Who knew he could pull it off so well?

Unfortunately, all the gun shops were looted—probably by the guys we're going up against—and so we have to rely on daggers. Luckily those weren't considered as valuable and I was able to upgrade my own pair. Nicolas won't get rid of his, since they're so super special. Legendary he muttered, when I tried to reason with him.

Oh, one thing I should mention. Fun fact really, but when Michel saw Nicolas' daggers, he did recognize them, but at the same time…he was surprised. I guess in the game they're bulgier? The way these bad boys look in real life is more sleek, a bit thinner.

Nicolas is super resourceful. I mean, I was telling him he couldn't carry those daggers around on his hips since people would recognize them, and he responded by storming back to the store. I followed him just to make sure he hadn't gone crazy or anything, with one of Neesera's mechanical squirrels in tow. When I found him, he was in the shop we'd gotten our clothes from and he was looking at a bunch of boxes along the wall. Even as I asked what he was doing, he took a pair of suspenders from this really expensive looking box, cut them to pieces, and somehow made them into these dagger holder things one his arms.

So he can like hide them up his sleeves. He made sure to wipe the poisons off, by the way. Resentfully. I guess he didn't like the thought of poison resting against his skin.

Now we're both in sort of Men in Black gear—it was harder to find me a suit and while I did find a nice blouse, I'm totally wearing a guy's jacket and slacks—mainly because all the military looking stuff that those guards at the human-demon base were wearing were probably stolen from these shops.

Anyway. So I figure if we're dressed like this, it'll at least make people stop before immediately shooting. I'm hoping.

Well, I'd just reached up again to try to get rid of that darn part of his—if Michel saw us and took a close enough look, he'd recognize us, so I was trying to make us unrecognizable enough that he at least wouldn't be able to call our bluff from across a room and I was really just praying that Greg wouldn't see us at all—when Nicolas' eyes suddenly snapped toward the front of the shop and he stealthed.

At first I thought he was just being a jerk because he didn't like all the attention, but then I heard a soft footfall and freaked out. I crouched down and shifted into the clothing racks—I used to hide in them when my mom would take me shopping when I was little and I really have to say I never thought that would be a useful skill. I went as low as I could and stayed perfectly still for a minute, but I felt like such a sitting duck, so I peaked under the clothes. It was one of those circular racks, near a wall, and I could see most of the floor of the store.

For a second, I thought I saw a really weird foot, right outside of my clothing wall, but then it was gone. I hunched closer trying to see better and then realized I had this horrible feeling that I was being watched.

You know how heroes never look up in the movies? Well, it was either look up or turn around and see a face looking at me through the clothes, so I did the former first, since that seemed less freaky.

"Gotcha, mon."

I about had a heart attack before I recognized that troll hunter. I don't know how he did it, but he'd managed to—silently—grab a hold of a higher clothing bar thing on the wall and was hanging off it, peering down at me. Just as I thought to be mildly, pleasantly surprised that those things could hold his weight, it gave out.

Good thing, too, because that was when Nicolas attacked.

Luckily he missed and the hunter did some roguish evasion stuff—don't know hunter abilities, so…yeah—and before he could gut him a troll, I managed to grab his arm and slow his swing enough that he just swung me into a clothing rack.

The troll caught me before I could hit the ground with a tusk-y grin in place. I think he was amused to have snuck up on rogues, but maybe I'm wrong. And in Nicolas' defense, I was distracting him…look at me. Standing up for the moron.

Anyway.

So, after setting me back on my feet, the hunter held his hands up all surrender-ish like, still grinning like an idiot. It took a minute or two before Nicolas finally put his daggers away. With the sort of speed that I didn't really see it happen and I'd bet my own weapons that that hunter doesn't know where he hides them.

Nicolas jerked at the tie I'd put on him like he felt collared—I couldn't help but wonder what Brath would look like in a suit—and glared at the troll. "You finally decided to stop dragging your feet, I take it?"

Trolls don't have hair on their eyebrows. It's like weird. The reason I mention this is because he raised his…brow? Is that what you call it when there's no hair? Or does it matter? Well he arched it and then looked at me, his humor sort of slipping.

"Realleh? Dat been watchya told dem?"

So…I kind of wish he'd never started talking and just kept up the silent treatment he and the rest of them gave me on the way to the portal. You see, I may be able to understand all languages, but it was at that moment that I learned that that doesn't mean I understand all accents. So I was trying to figure out exactly what he'd said—he spoke so fast and with  _such_  a heavy accent—but he just kept going.

"Wat pa't a waitin' fa back up so dat we can have ah escape route secured been draggin' ah feet, yeh?" He crossed his arms, drumming his large fingers against one of his elbows. "Miksa went wit' ya dragon, yeh? We was gonna wait fa dem ta get back befoa we do 'nehtin, but den Blackhea't be like ya run off 'n we gotta go find ya."

So. I have a bit of a confession. When I said that the Horde weren't doing anything and that I just ran through the portal… Like the troll said—I think he said—Brath had taken the female orc to some nearby post to send her off for help. Brath was coming back as soon as he could, with or without the rogue, depending on what she needed to do to get help.

Everyone else was setting up camp a bit away from the portal so that we wouldn't get ambushed the same as the Alliance when I edged away from them and made a run for the portal.

At the time I figured that we were wasting precious time, you know? And we are. Though I guess if he found us, it wouldn't have been that much time wasted…but who's to say I would have found Nicolas and Neesera as quickly if they were here too?

I still think I made the right call.

The troll paused in his rambling to inspect one of the shirts on the rack and then, in mild bewilderment, pull out another shirt that was the same size/make. It looked like it was totally blowing his mind to see two completely identical shirts. He hung them over his arm and started looking through the rest of the shirts, his awe growing as that batch was all the same kind.

Azerothians are amazed by mass production, I guess.

Well, Nicolas wasn't interested in giving the troll time to explore the new world—even though I'd had to pry him away from a few stores with a bunch of fake gold earrings that all looked exactly alike. I think he swiped some, by the way.

Whatever. It's not like money means anything in this world anymore.

"Are you the only one who came through the portal?"

The troll paused, lifting an extra large of that same shirt he'd been inspecting up and comparing it to the earlier ones, still fascinated by the likenesses. "Nah, mon. We gotta camp set up a bit from hea. Ah been trackin' dat one fa a while now," He paused and jutted his chin toward me. He frowned as he started slinging the shirts back over the top bar of the rack. "Ah woulda found ha fasta, but dis world…it got different smells 'n sounds 'n such, yeh? Not used ta it. T'rew meh a bit."

He motioned over his shoulder toward the main hall of the mall. "So den, watchya wanna do?" He suggested we go back to the Horde camp, saw Nicolas' grimace, and then suggested that we take him to our camp and he could lead the others there later.

That was when I blurted out that we only had Neesera with us. And we filled him in on the whole debacle and how we needed to save our friends. For a minute, I was really scared that he was going to tell us that the Horde wasn't interested in helping—which was fine, I guess, since my plan didn't originally involve them anyway—but instead, he just grinned and suddenly started looking through the shirts again, holding a few up toward Nicolas like he was using him as a comparison and narrowing his eyes before slinging them over his shoulder.

"Dis gonna be great, mon. Ya come wit' meh, yeh? We get Blackheart in on ya scheme, dea be no way dey can doubt ya be workin' fa de demons." He paused and winked at me. "'n ya dragon be missin' ya."


	35. Decisions

I looked around the camp at everyone's unconscious forms. We'd taken refuge in a mall and while you might think that would make us prime targets for any looters, pretty much everything that had been worth taking was already gone. Parts of the building were collapsing, too, so I doubt any demons or humans would think to look for the mysterious intruders here. I hope they don't.

Neesera, Cisty, and Nicolas had automatically regrouped and sort of separated themselves from the Horde. Again, I think it's really dumb, but at least they're even willing to work together.

Oh, in case you're wondering, Neesera was led back to camp by our troll guide—his name is Senta'ri and he was very specific that I can't abbreviate his name. Well, really it was his panther. I think he's kind of lazy because he just named it Cat.

See, when he learned that Neesera was keeping track of us via her mechanical squirrel, he decided that it would be easiest to send his pet to go get her and he would just take us straight to the camp. I was worried because it's really hard for Neesera to wander around when she can't stealth, right? And being a draenei, she really sticks out.

But Senta'ri just rummaged through more of the store before finding the plastic bags and being completely amazed. He totally took a whole thing of them for use later—I guess raiders have a sort of entitlement complex, where they think if they find something, it's theirs. But he rummaged through his own bags, pulled out these weird vials and then dropped them into a plastic bag and secured it with some rope to one of Cat's legs. We'd left the squirrel near the doorway to watch for intruders, but I guess Neesera had gotten distracted by more of our stuff because it had wandered across the hallway to another store.

We found her squirrel and Senta'ri made sure that it got a good view of his pet before he set it down and told it to go home. So it led Cat back to Neesera and then Cat led her to us.

Apparently one of the vials he sent with them is the same as the stuff that that hunter was chugging himself. An invisibility potion.

I knew about health ones and mana ones, but I hadn't realized there were so many different kinds. I'm betting it requires harder to find herbs than silverleaf and peacebloom, though.

Anyway.

Um, the Alliance and I are sort of feeling the timer running out more so than our Horde allies. You see, Clara and Fizz and Eric were taken like almost a week ago now. The longer we wait, the less likely they're gonna be alive.

I know, I know. I'm always doom and gloom, right?

Well, with Mr. Blackheart's demonic expertise, we've been catching a few demons and draining their essences. Senta'ri made a joke that we should have brought elves for this, but whatever. We don't have time to go back.

And that orc chick went for reinforcements anyway and honestly that's part of why this needs to happen now. Once Azeroth starts pouring through that portal, I bet they'll just off their prisoners and get some new ones who have better, more up-to-date information.

It's no surprise that when we got to the camp, my brilliant plan was pretty much thrown out and all the war grizzled veterans went about talking about how to save the day and get their own information without giving me much thought.

I mean, it's pretty much standard that I'm too clueless to help. I haven't even been involved in the demon siphoning. They say that I'm really important because I know the native cultures—kind of weird to hear them call it that, but whatever—and the native language and so we can't risk having the demons see me if I'm going to be sneaking into that base.

Oh, as much as I hate warlocks, they're super useful. Back when I ran through the portal in Zangarmarsh, Mr. Blackheart saw me running for it and instead of stopping me, he just threw a spell on me: Detect Invisibility.

That's how I could see the demons.

Kind of disappointed that magick isn't like taking its hold on me or something. Well, I mean, on the one hand I'm glad because I'm still me. But on the other hand, magic could be useful. But then the only thing really going for me is my immunity to spells. But…it seems like it's getting easier for people to cast stuff on me.

I wonder how easy it would be for Fizz to slow fall me now…

I digress. So, at the rate we're going—they've been going way far out into the city to gather demons from areas that are miles off from our camp so that they don't find us as fast—it's gonna be another week before we have enough essences to cloak everyone.

I guess the orc with us is into alchemy and he was making these potions that would make the rest of them look human for a little while. They figured I could just say that they were from Europe or Asia or somewhere and that was why they didn't speak English.

As cool as it would have been to see what Neesera would have looked like as a human, we just don't have the time.

And then there's Brath.

I don't know what I was expecting when I got there. That he'd be giving me some weird silent treatment, feeling snubbed? That he'd be all bubbly and touchy-feely? Whatever I expected, it wasn't this.

When he saw me, he just walked right up to me, put his hands on my shoulders, leaned down, and smelled my hair. And leaned there for a minute. Then he patted my head, whispered a quick thank you, and walked away.

I didn't get it.

So, he's been flying them around, making a big show of being a dragon so that the demons are looking for a lizard killing their kind instead of our group.

Well, Mr. Blackheart has also been staying around the camp because he's needed to summon them back. Another thing warlocks do. In case you're wondering, he made this stone they take with them and use to drain the fel energies out of the demons, so that's why he doesn't have to be there for that.

I decided to see if he knew what was up with Brath, seeing as they're bestest buddies and all. I mean, it's not that I wanted Brath drooling all over me, but…he was different. And…who am I kidding? I do kind of, sort of like him.

Which is like really weird since he is a giant lizard half the time, but whatever. Caring about him is just…

Whatever. Like I said, I went to Mr. Blackheart.

Get this. I didn't follow all of it, but it goes back to what Neesera said about old gods corrupting the black dragon flight. Well, apparently they're trapped in the earth in Azeroth, constantly whispering in Brath's head, so he's like schizophrenic, but the voices aren't part of his imagination. Again, someone did explain this to me before. However, the old gods rely heavily on magic, or so they're guessing.

When Brath went through the portal to my world, the voices stopped.

That's what Mr. Blackheart thinks anyway. Because I guess Brath isn't as much fun and doesn't feel as corrupted or something?

And that kind of makes sense. Because you know that one pure black dragon who let Brath come here? I think, he had a pretty good idea that this would happen. I think he wanted to see if getting far enough away from the corruption could free his brother—I think they're brothers?

But, then, he didn't consider the fall out, you know? Like, if you're crazy and that craziness makes you kill people and it's all you have for like ever and then it's just gone…

What's going through Brath's head right now? Does he regret all the people he's hurt throughout his life? Does he feel responsible? Is it killing him inside?

Mr. Blackheart totally phrased his answers in a way that had me worrying before he'd even finished them. He so did it on purpose. He must be bored stuck in camp and screwing with me is one of the only ways he can have fun.

Well, I've tried to just watch Brath when he's around to see how true our theory is. Last night, he caught me. He had just come in from being gone almost a full twenty four hours and I'd been worried that the demons were making themselves some dragon-scale boots. When he got back, I kind of watched him around camp a bit and when he got up to go wandering through the nearby stores, I followed.

Quick side note, everyone wanders around from time to time. Then they come back with an iPad or a computer monitor or like a squeaky toy from the burned out pet shop and want me to explain to them what it is and how it works. I never knew toothbrushes could spawn such a long conversation, but yeah. I think it's gonna be a new thing for tauren. Assuming, you know, we make it back to Azeroth.

Back to Brath.

Turns out today was not a learn-about-the-strange-world day. Turns out he just wandered off because he knew I'd follow and then he could ask me what was wrong with me. So he got me cornered and was all wondering what was going on and so finally I just…I don't even remember what I said exactly. Something about him acting funny.

All of a sudden I look up and he's standing right in front of me, with that stupid amused look in his eyes. And that dumb, border-line evil grin of his. He caught me by my waist and pulled me to him, leaning down so that our cheeks touched as he whispered, "Does my little Amy prefer me wicked?"

My mind blanked. Not for as long as it used to though, since I'm getting used to him screwing with me. Even as I gathered my wits and indignation and turned my head to glare at him, he caught my chin and kissed me.

And I put my arms around his neck and kissed him back.

There's not really much else to tell about that because Mr. Blackheart was looking for Brath, too—of course their bromance would get in the way—and as we heard that despicable, withered voice calling for Brath, he pulled away from me and just started to walk off.

Again.

"You can't just keep doing that," I snapped.

He just grinned, darted back over to me, and gave me a quick peck on the lips before slinging me over his shoulder and walking off to meet his warlock.

I hate men. Well, not all men. You know what I mean.

But the truth of it is that it was then, as I retaliated by using one of my daggers to slice off his ponytail and he dropped me in utter horror that I would 'stoop so low' that I realized that he's quite possibly the most important person to me.

And I don't want anything bad to happen to him. I don't want him to keep gathering demonic essences and walk into a trap. Or to be killed by Greg and the others.

And I don't want anything horrible happening to Neesera or Nicolas or Senta'ri or any of the others. I haven't known any of them very long, but they're like family.

That's why I drugged them.

I figured that I could probably sneak into the base better on my own. To heck with having Nicolas pretend to be in charge and me as a translator, or having the others pretend to be guards for him or however their new plan was going to go.

While they were beginning to dose off, I excused myself to wander and slipped into my suit. I stopped briefly to check on them to see that I hadn't used too many pills or anything—I didn't know how much it would take to knock out a tauren or a draenei so I kind of guessed—and as I turned to leave, I found Mr. Blackheart leaning against the door of the shop we'd taken refuge in.

He was dressed in a suit like mine. I recognized the clothes as what Senta'ri had brought back with him and frowned. However, even as I did so, Mr. Blackheart straightened up and grinned at me. His face was still so grotesque that it made me want to hurl, but as he stood up and walked over to me, that hunch in his shoulders as though his head was too heavy to carry, he offered a small vial to me.

"You were planning on taking this anyway, yes?"

I stared at the dimly glowing liquid. It was the fel energy they'd gathered. My gaze slid back toward Mr. Blackheart and he held up his other hand, greenish energy swirling around it. I have to say, it was kind of impressive to see him use magic so easily in my world. I guess that's because the demons have begun to taint it so badly.

Even as I took the vial, he clasped his hands and lifted them over his head. The magic looked like it ran down his arms and over him and as it consumed his body, he changed. I think…he looked kind of like this boss from the game. I mean, I know I saw my brother fighting this guy with giant batwings a couple of times and he showed me some opening where that same guy with wings and horns was saying something about being unprepared. His skin looked grayish and taunt, but green symbols ran along his arms and his wings had an eerie glow to them. He had horns, too.

With a bow he offered me a clawed hand. "Drink up and let's lay waste to the Legion."

I eyed the vial and then frowned as I heard someone stirring behind me. If I was going to infiltrate a base with demons, I was going to need to be demonic. And if I wanted to make sure to slip in with a small group, it would have to be now. With a deep breath, I tilted my head back and drank it down.


	36. Michel's Legacy

It feels like it's been forever since I really let myself think. Really, it's been a little over a month, but…yeah. Totally feels like forever. Forever and a day maybe.

I…

A  _lot_  has happened. I really just wanna jump into what's going now, but, well…

I know I do this a lot, but let me go back.

My original, genius plan, was to sneak into the enemy base with Nicholas, right? He was going to be some hot shot from Europe and I was going to be his translator—never mind the fact that if the wrong person had spoken at the wrong time, I'd be in the wrong language. My plan had been to waltz right in pretending that we were with the demons, free Clara and the others, and then…honestly I hadn't thought that far ahead, so it's good that they pigeonholed that idea and came up with the fel energy one.

In retrospect, maybe I should have let them carry it out.

But, you know how it is, the past is the past and all that. Greg's in the wind, by the way. More on that in a bit, but…that's one of the things that makes it really hard to think. Because, you know, it's kind of my fault that he got away. Less kind of and more completely, really.

But again, more on that later.

The other reason I'm having such a hard time is Michel.

I know, I know. I'm hung up on the traitors, right? Wrong. There's so much more to Michel's story than we knew.

Backing up—again. Mr. Blackheart and I had left the group so that we could go play spy on our own. Well, as we were walking there, it dawned on me that he didn't really look like the kind of demon that I'd seen in my world and that if anyone had half a brain—or played Warcraft—they might notice something was off about him.

And it's not like I could shake him or anything. And he's so the type to go running back to wake up Brath and drag him into this mess just to get back at me for not letting him take part in the mayhem.

So when we were less than a block from the base, I kind of, totally found a heavy rock and knocked him out. Not that he didn't go down without a fight. Of course. Nothing can ever go smoothly for me. I missed him at first because my aim is so awesome, but luckily being hopped up on fel magic did, um…

Well for starters I was high. I don't want to really take a stance on drug use since I've always sort of been in the middle with it, but being high definitely helped facilitate a lot of the stuff that happens next.

For starters, remember how I was wishing that there was some way to hone my fel sense? Being hopped up on fel magic does that for you. It's also kinda like a steroid I guess, because I was faster and stronger. For sure.

It seems like the perfect weapon while you're on it, until you hit the withdrawal stage, but that didn't kick in for a few weeks, so more on that another time.

So, as I finally did manage to pin down Mr. Blackheart and knock him a good one, he gave me this look. Sort of like I was betraying him. My mind was a little foggy, but at the time, all I could think was, "This is what you get for trying to steal back my Brath."

Yeah, not one of my finest moments.

Anyway. So, he's unconscious and as I stand up, I hear jerky movements to my left, the direction I need to go to get to the base. Well our little scuffle caught one of the guard's attention and he was standing in the entrance to the alley, gun trained on me.

Now, had I been in my right mind, I probably would have had a panic attack. Luckily, that wasn't the case. I looked him over and then shrugged and motioned toward Mr. Blackheart. "You're welcome." When he looked at me all confused like, I rolled my eyes and started toward him. "You didn't think that group you caught before would be the only ones coming through that portal, did you?"

The guy looked at the corpse on the ground and then took a step back, like he was freaked that I even  _knew_  about the first group. "Who the hell are you?"

For a second, I didn't know what to do. But then—and I really need to make a bracelet for this—I thought, what would Brath do? I'm horrible, I know.

"Who am I?" I tried to be as bold as my newly colored hair. "Sweetheart, I'm the one who decides if your little base gets wiped off the map." I put a hand on my hip and pointed toward the gun. As my hand came into my line of sight, I realized that my finger nails looked a little more…claw-y than normal. By the way, if you aren't a continuous user of fel magic, those weird physical alterations do go away. It's when you never stop using them that they become permanent, I guess.

And I guess that Mr. Blackheart had actually given me enough fel energy that it should have killed me. Which is why I actually  _had_ physical alterations after a first use, which helped a lot, by the way, with my lies.

Oh, another thing. I think Mr. Blackheart's trying to plague me. But  _not_  because he wants to get rid of me anymore. It's really creepy, but Brath likes my heart beating, so…yeah.

Just…ugh.

Back to what happened.

So I pointed at the guy and in my head I was wondering if he'd really buy that I was working for the Legion, but I guess my eyes were glowing a lot too, so there was no doubt in that poor sap's head. I glanced back at Mr. Blackheart and then frowned at the guy and crossed my arms. "I'd explain everything to you, but I have a feeling that upper management considers you…" I tried to think of how Greg would have put it, and settled for one of his analogies I'd never really gotten, but figured this geeky looking guy might, "a red shirt, so why don't you let me help you out a bit, huh?" I walked toward him. "You take me to talk to someone who actually matters and I'll say that you even helped me with the prisoner."

The guy shifted uneasily for a minute, like he thought he might just shoot me anyway. Luckily, before I could register that and panic—since even on fel magic, I so can't out run a bullet—he slung his gun over his shoulder and stalked over to Mr. Blackheart. His face twisted into disgust as he drew close, seeing as Mr. Blackheart's demon-y form had reverted to his rotting one when he'd been knocked out. "What are you trying to pull? This thing's been dead for ages—"

"It's called a forsaken," I muttered, turning to glare at him, and trying to maintain my same earlier level of arrogance. "And if you don't bring him with us, that corpse is going to get up, scurry home, and bring back friends." I stepped back over to him and leaned toward him. I admit, I was kind of having a power trip that he'd even believe that I could be a threat to him. "And unlike all the zombie apocalypses you may have prepared for, these ones throw fireballs."

No need to tell him we were immune to those, right? With luck he didn't know yet.

And luck was totally on my side.

He turned so many different shades so fast. Kinda red from humiliation that a girl was schooling him on zombies, then pale as it registered that what I was saying could actually happen, then sort of green as he picked up the rotting mass of flesh and put it over his other shoulder.

I let him lead the way so that it'd be harder for some trigger-happy nutjob to take me out before I even got into the building.

At first, I thought it was weird. You see, these guys had clearly been working with the demons, right? Well, there were no demons in the building. I could tell. Mr. Blackheart and I were the only things even remotely fel-oriented in there.

For a minute, I sort of wondered—hoped, really—that we'd been wrong about them. But then, the demons were wandering all through the city. They  _had_  to know these guys were here, which means they  _had_  to be letting them stay.

So I pretended my scrutiny was legit from a superior's standpoint. My first 'helper' passed me off to someone else so that he could secure the prisoner and he disappeared down the main hall as I was led over to a staircase.

Now, at this point, I was starting to worry. Now I was really by myself and if anyone recognized me, really bad things could happen.

What few guys—and even fewer gals—that we passed as we went up to the third floor of the building looked terrified to see me and I felt like maybe I'd grown some extra arms or eyes or something—again, I didn't know my eyes were glowing.

As we were walking down the last hall toward the main office or whatever of the guy in charge—and I was starting to panic about what I was going to say to them since I was sooo far from wherever the prisoners had to be kept—I finally caught my reflection and I stopped in my tracks.

Goodbye hazel. Even after the fel magic wore off, my eyes are still more green than they used to be.

Anyway, the guard stopped and I caught this suspicious look from the corner of my eye, so I reached up and ran my fingers through my hair like I was trying to fix it and then looked at him and shrugged. "The one downside to the end of the world is all the dirt."

I sounded more confident than before because I was. When I'd seen my face in the mirror, I'd been terrified for a second. But you see, that glow sort of blocks the whole 'window to the soul' thing that shows when I'm lying.

So even if I was unsure about things coming up, they wouldn't be able to tell. I just had to hope that my fel magic would last as long as I needed it to. Again, at the time, I didn't know it'd be in my system for weeks.

I strode past my guide and motioned toward the door at the end of the hall. "Through here?" When they sort of nodded dumbly, I gave them a dismissive wave. "You're unnecessary now."

The guy looked like he wanted to object, but I was already to the door and swinging it open. I'm not sure if I was relieved or uneasy to see that Greg wasn't the one leaning over the table, pouring over all these different plans and documents. A little bit of both, I suppose.

Now I really didn't know what to do, and as I saw the guy looking up with this really pissed off look and reaching for a gun resting near his hand on the table, I just stopped and crossed my arms, letting words spill out of my mouth without thinking.

"Shoot if you want, but it's my say so that keeps the demons from camping your doorstep until you either starve or kill each other. And if I don't show back up at headquarters, they're going to assume your whole base is against them." That made the guy hesitate and I let myself smile, because I really was relieved he wasn't going to shoot me. I didn't really know what else to say, so I just kind of let my eyes wander the room for a moment.

The guy forced a smile back at me as he straightened up. As he walked around his desk and over to the doorway, his steps seemed measured, like he was trying to maintain an air of confidence.

Great. So it was a standoff between two fakers.

He stopped a few feet in front of me and crossed his arms across his broad chest. He was a mountain of a guy, sort of like the human version of a draenei—though Maevlen would have still towered over him. However, he was easily tall enough to tower over me and even high as I was, it was hard not to shrink back.

I don't know how, but I stood my ground.

His smile stretched as he tilted his head. "May I help you, Miss…?"

I ignored that he was asking for my name. I needed a reason for being there. I tried to think. There were no demons in the base, so if we were somehow wrong about what was going on in here, I'd be digging my own grave.

I abandoned all caution and shrugged. "I know it may seem like this world has fallen into chaos, but it's an organized sort." I motioned around, trying to take up more space and seem bigger. "And while the Legion doesn't mind a bit of slack and hell, even the screw ups can be fun to smooth out, a portal to a very capable world has opened up on your doorstep." I paced around him so that I was between him and his gun. "More importantly, it's still open." I tilted my head as I got an idea for a fishing expedition. "Whispers are beginning that it was someone in this base that made contact with the creatures in that other world, seeking help against the Legion."

"My people are loyal to our cause," the man replied and I frowned. Did he have to be so ambiguous? I was trying to find out if we were somehow on the same side, darn it.

"The Legion isn't going to leave anything for us, you have to know that," I replied, keeping my voice as even as I could. If he detected any frustration, hopefully he'd misread it. "So the only way to survive is to join their ranks and move on to the next world."

"I'm well aware."

"Why would they let us in their ranks if we can't even clean up our own messes, hmm?" I leaned back against the desk, my hands lightly gripping the edge of it. He didn't say anything. "The portal. What. Are. Your. Plans?"

"So the Legion's found out about the portal?" He ran his hand down his face and whispered, "That bastard…I should have known he'd do this..."

I didn't like the way he was talking. "Who'd do what?"

He shook his head slowly as he looked at me and shrugged. "Burn in hell, you bitch."

He reached into the back of his belt and it was like I was trapped in some movie, the edges of reality hazy with fel magic. He had a second gun. Nicholas' training kicked in and I rolled back over the desk, my hands going to my daggers. Why was I wearing those when I was against guns?

However, even as it dawned on me that, durr, there was a gun right there on the desk, I heard a shot and then a thunk almost in time with my boots hitting the ground. I stopped myself mid duck as I looked to where the man had been standing. Just in the doorway was the guy who'd led me into the office. He arched an eyebrow and shook his head as he grinned at me, spinning his own weapon in his hand.

As he entered the room, he stopped next to the man, laying on the floor and gasping. I felt sick. And trapped. I saw him point the gun down and laugh as the man tried to curse him as a traitor. Then he shot twice.

And all the while I just stood there.

He'd been a loyalist.

I'd just stood there as someone on my side was murdered.

My 'savior' holstered his gun and smiled up at me as though seeking approval. I let my gaze wander up to his face slowly and he stood there, frozen for a moment. His smile slipped and then he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'll get this out of your office."

"Wait."

I couldn't believe what was happening. It couldn't be real. None of it could. I shouldn't have come alone.

But then, what had I thought would happen when we stormed this place? That somehow no one would die?

No one good.

The guy was watching me, confused. I had to salvage the reason I'd come. I couldn't let this nutcase catch me. That guy was already dead and nothing I did would bring him back. I wanted to throw up, but instead I masked a shiver with a shrug and walked around the desk, making sure not to look back at the body. "Don't worry about that for now." I stopped in front of him and motioned around. "I'm here to find out about plans to close that portal."

"Right," the guy smiled and nodded excessively. "Well, um, I'm not the greatest at explaining, but—"

"Get great," I gave him a thin, slightly disgusted smile. I didn't care if he knew I didn't like him. Let him think it for whatever reason he wanted. All the while I kept telling myself not to throw up and thanking the powers that be that my glowy eyes were hiding how scared I was. I thought about Nicholas and tried to keep my face as calm as he would.

The guy shuddered under my stare and his smile slipped. "Well, we've been keeping watch on the portals, as we were told," he seemed quick to emphasize that last part, "so when this one opened, we caught them by surprise." He glanced down at the guy he'd killed and then back at me. "Well," he motioned down, "Jonathan said that we should take care of it ourselves. To prove our loyalty." He took a step away from me as I narrowed my eyes. "W-we thought it was weird, since the demons could close it way faster than us, but then a few of us figured out that maybe Jonathan wasn't, uh, devoted to our cause, if you get what I'm saying."

I crossed my arms, forcing my thoughts away from what had just happened. I think, that if I hadn't been high, I wouldn't have been able to ignore the body near my feet as I did. Like I said, that fel magic helped in so many ways. "Go on."

"So," he seemed to be regaining his confidence, "we've been keeping an eye on him and watching the people he's closest to—" He snapped his jaws shut and ran his fingers through his hair. "This can wait! I need to give the word to round those idiots up—"

"No," I said, maybe a bit too quickly. When he looked at me, confused, I arched my eyebrow. "You said this was my office, didn't you? I say no." As he looked ready to protest, I decided to pretend to be Brath. Or Mr. Blackheart. "Do have someone clean this mess up, after we're done with our little discussion," I pointed down without looking—I couldn't see Jonathan's face and not cry. "Did they know that you were looking into them?"

"No—"

"I want a list of their names and  _I_  will deal with them," I forced a smile and the bile down in my stomach as I spoke again. "Not that I don't… _appreciate_  what you've done, but I'm a tad more creative with punishments than you are."

He nodded quickly.

"Now then. You will get me that list of names as soon as you finish telling me about the portal."

He nodded again, and I swear his head was ready to fling itself off his shoulders. He stepped around the body, frowning when he realized he'd stepped in the blood, but went to the desk anyway and started rummaging around for a piece of paper. As he searched for that and a pen, he began talking again. "Yeah, right. Well, there was a kid from our world with the people on the other side of the portal." He found a pen and began writing names down as he spoke. "Michael, I think? I don't know, I didn't really deal with him." I couldn't stand the scritching sound of the pen against the paper, but I managed to keep myself from freaking out as I walked back to the table and stood beside it, glancing toward the hall to look for anyone else. Luckily, it seemed this was the exec floor and even gun shots weren't enough to draw people running.

It made me kind of sick. This was what my world had come down to?

"Greg…Greg Ford and a few others have been looking, well, for you," the guy smiled and motioned toward me with the pen. "Oh, I'm Chris, by the way." He paused like he was expecting me to give him my name. When I didn't, he shrugged and kept going. "We figured the Legion would find out about the portal and be suspicious, but well, we were hoping to have at least cleaned house before you got here."

"Well, now it's my job." I muttered, though in my mind I was thinking of Brath dropping Chris to his death—over the ocean maybe.

However, he just figured that with my glowy eyes, I was on his side and he shrugged again. "So, Jonathan was keeping us away from the portal as he 'studied' how to close it and we were looking for a way to contact the demons." He paused and then straightened up. His hand shook as he handed me a list of about fourteen names that I could see from a glance. I pretended that I wasn't terribly concerned about who was on that scrap of paper. "Okay, look."

I let my frown deepen. He was panicking about something and I didn't want my hope that something was going wrong for the Legion to peek through.

When he started speaking again, it was as though he didn't need to breathe, he was so fast. "I know you're gonna be pissed, but it's not just the portal that's still open. A few of the prisoners escaped right away, but we weren't worried because of the cameras on the portal…"

I had to clench my jaw to keep it from dropping. There were cameras? No. No, no, no. Were there more in the city? I didn't realize I'd voiced my question until Chris was biting his nail and shrugging again.

"I…there  _were_. Um, about the prisoners…we just figured that we'd see them go back and close it after them, if worse came to worse." Luckily Chris had missed my freak out as he was too busy panicking himself. "But, well, the little prick, Michael or whatever his name was, he wasn't really working with us. He…" Chris took in a deep breath. "He disabled our cameras. All of them," he winced and glanced at me, as though to see if I was already conjuring up his doom. When my expression didn't indicate that his doom was nigh, he added, "I didn't know kids could do viruses like that, but they're still not operational."

I tilted my head, trying to hide my relief. "So Mi—" I had to stop myself from saying Michel's name right, figuring that would be suspicious. "The  _child_  blinded you to the city?"

"Yeah," Chris' face fell. "And he sort of bought the prisoners time to make a portal back to their world. A smaller one," Chris glanced down at Jonathan and started toward him. "I should really move this for you—"

"I already said that could wait," I said as calmly as I could. Maybe I could get to Michel and find a way to get the two of us out of here. I needed to get back to Nicholas and the others and to let them know what was going on. And they needed to know Michel wasn't a traitor. "Where's the boy?"

Chris' smile returned as a bit of confidence filled his voice. "Dead." He nodded firmly. "And we still have the…m-ma-mages? I think they were calling them?" He frowned. "But the…the girl got away. Along with some prisoners from this world. But they weren't really a threat," he tried to assure me. "Just some civilians and stuff that we, uh, were keeping for…" He looked at me, paled, and then scratched the back of his neck. "It's not important, really."

I tried to ignore what I was pretty sure he was leaving out. "There are still prisoners, then?"

"We, uh, we've been trying to find out how much they know about our world and what else is coming," Chris' shoulders slumped slightly. "They're pretty tough, from what I hear…" he hesitated and then added, "I don't really deal with them, so I can't answer any questions—"

"That's fine." I said, wishing for the world that I could get out of there and away from him. "Why don't I have a look at your prisoners while you take care of this?"


	37. The Not So Great Escape

So, Jonathan was sort of the reason we hadn't been caught and tortured just yet. As that nut job explained, he had been in charge, but Jonathan had only been pretending to work for the demons. And when that portal opened up? It had been like God himself was giving them a shot at taking our world back.

If I hadn't come in all, 'I'm with the legion', we could have been allies.

But how was I supposed to know? Really? I'm not trying to say I'm not responsible for his death, because I am, in so many ways, but how could I have known that I could have trusted him the second I met him?

Of all the stuff that's happened, I think that's what gets to me the most. My nightmares about my world ending have been replaced with his face. Jonathan's. Sometimes I see the world saved and everyone's happy and moving on and then I'll turn and look and see like a single tree that's shady with his figure standing under it. Sometimes he's with my parents and friends, another face added to those I failed.

Brath says I shouldn't worry about it because I can't change the past, but…I think it'd be scarier to not care, you know?

It's so…frustrating to think about.

But, I should get back to what's happened.

Um, I left off with Chris disposing of Jonathan's body as I went down to 'interrogate' the prisoners.

This is where I finally caught a break. I had some nobody lead me down into the basement, where they were keeping the prisoners and then I dismissed them, saying I didn't need an audience to perform. They believed me and scurried off, leaving me with the keys to the room my friends were locked in.

I waited until I couldn't hear their footsteps anymore and then I opened the door and went in. And nearly burst into tears. Both Eric and Fizz were tied to chairs and gagged. Eric's nose was swollen and broken. One of Fizz's hands looked like every bone in it had been shattered. They were both covered in small cuts and bruises.

As my lower lip quivered, Eric heard one of my awkward little hiccupping noises and looked up to glare at whoever had come to torture them. It took him a moment before he realized it was me and his eyes widened and he started to try to say something.

I managed to snap out of my horror and put a finger to my lips. I kept the door ajar, in case they'd messed with the lock so it wouldn't open from the inside, which meant that it would be easier for people in the hall to overhear anything we might talk about. And who was to say that even with the cameras down, they didn't have a recorder of some sort in the room with them? I hurried over to them. I know I should have tried to stay in evil Legion sympathizer mode, but I couldn't. I pulled their gags off as I looked them over. "Are you okay?"

Dumb question, I know.

But, being guys and all, they both just tried to joke it off, like these injuries were nothing. Maybe, since they'd both been in raids, that was true, but still.

Fizz nodded his head toward me, wincing as the movement jostled his arm. I started to untie his hands, but I stopped myself. What was I going to do? Free them and waltz right out the front door? Even with the fourteen people here who were good guys, there had to be at least forty who weren't.

I remembered what Chris had said about the escape when Clara got away earlier and I looked them over, hating what I was about to ask. "Are you still strong enough to make portals?"

They both kind of stared at me for a minute and then Eric drummed his fingers against one of the armrests. "We can if you untie us."

"Well," I bit my lip, but frowned when he gave me a skeptical look, like he thought I was going to betray them.

"What happened to you? Are the others okay?"

I shook my head. "We can fill you in later, okay?" I motioned upstairs. "There's some people here who are against the Legion. If I have them rounded up and locked in here with you, can you get them all to safety?"

Fizz and Eric looked to one another and seemed to have a meaningful eye staring contest for a second before Fizz finally shrugged. "I dunno if we can make another portal that'll be stable enough for that many people, but if we can send somethin' to Maevlen and have him and the other mages in the Exodar set their focus on this place, we could probably hold it long enough with their help."

Eric nodded. "And maybe we could even establish that gateway they wanted from Azeroth to here."

It seemed too good to be true and a small part of me hated myself for even hoping that what they said could be done.

"That would be inconvenient for the Horde." I heard that withered, detestable voice from over my shoulder and looked behind me to see Mr. Blackheart was tied up in the corner. He hadn't been given the luxury of a chair and his head rested against the stone as he watched us.

I frowned and looked back at Eric and Fizz. "Well, even if we do send something back to Azeroth, who's to say it would end up with Maevlen anyway?"

Eric arched an eyebrow, though he winced as it stretched the swollen skin on his nose. "I know the portal to the Exodar. I can send something there, but…I'd need something from our world to send."

Without thinking, I started to hand him one of my daggers before I remembered I'd left the Azerothian ones in the mall when I'd found better blades from my world. With a low curse, I checked my person and frowned. Why had I had to get rid of  _everything_ from there?"

Fizz coughed and his ears trembled for a moment before he motioned to Eric. "Use ya robe."

"It won't be too dusty?" I asked almost instinctively. After all, my clothes hadn't been useable to make a portal, forever ago.

Eric laughed as Fizz arched an eyebrow and I hissed for them to stay quiet. Fizz shook his head slowly. I could see this hope growing in their eyes. They'd been expecting to die down here, but now… "I think in ya case, there was more dirt than cloth left. His robe should be fine."

Even as I nodded, I stopped myself. "Wait, why didn't you just do that before?" Both of them stared at me blankly and I stood up, paused, and squatted down to loosen their constraints. "Why isn't there already a portal back and forth if you tried to escape before?"

"Last time we panicked," Eric muttered, tilting his head back to rest against the chair. "The things they were doing to the people here…we just wanted to get them out of here."

"Trust us," Fizz added, "we've pretty much gone through what we shoulda done in our heads since those portals closed."

"Always something that could have been done better," Eric muttered, flexing his fingers slowly. As he shifted his chair creaked. "Unfortunately, we sent everyone to Stormwind instead of the Exodar, though. We were thinking that Clara could alert our guild leader and start rallying a few other guilds to see about making their way here." As he nodded and sighed, he jerked his wrists up as best he could. "Don't suppose you could untie us though?"

"Not yet." I stood back up and shook my head. "Okay, this is what we're gonna do…."

I didn't talk to them for much longer, but while I did I learned that the only reason they hadn't been killed yet was because Jonathan had been helping them. He'd roughed them up a bit—his and my versions of 'a bit' differ greatly—so that people wouldn't ask questions, but he'd been treating them fairly well, all things considered.

Again, I didn't get why they didn't just talk him into untying them and making a portal. That was actually a simple problem. Apparently, Michel had told the people here that Fizz  _could_  do a translation spell, but then he was killed and Fizz wouldn't answer any questions and wasn't willing to do the spell, so that's as far as it had gotten. So they couldn't even understand one another.

So…I think most of the bad guys wanted to kill them off since they couldn't even get information from them, but Jonathan had insisted on keeping them alive, though Fizz and Eric weren't sure why, since they couldn't understand any of their captors.

And worse, Jonathan hadn't understood how magic needs to be spoken to work though, or he probably wouldn't have insisted on gagging them to keep up appearance sake. I wonder if he was stumped as to why they didn't flee.

…

So, I went upstairs and, as much as it made my skin crawl, found Chris. He was as despicable as ever with his desire to prove himself to the legion and I really just wanted to throw my knives at him and see how good my aim was getting. I mean, I didn't need to hit him right between the eyes to kill him. I could be a little off.

But then killing him would be hard to explain to the other evil guys, so instead I gave him my best evil, confident smile and leaned toward him like we were conspiring together. "You remember that list you gave me?" When he nodded, I leaned back a little. "I want you to round up everyone on it and take them to the basement."

"Wouldn't it…be easier to just kill them?" He seemed fidgety, like he was some trigger happy psycho—which he was.

"There is a certain…finesse to these things," I muttered, again not hiding my disdain for him. "And anyway. I'm looking for certain information and what if you kill the wrong person and I don't get what I'm after?" I gave him a tight smile.

He hesitated and then nodded. "Do you have a time you want them by?"

"Soon?" I frowned and then leaned toward him again. "As soon as you pick the first one up and lock them down there, people are going to start to notice. Try to grab them all about the same time if you can and lead them down and lock them up. It's not a hard concept."

He didn't like that, but he nodded again. "I'll get right on that."

Well, before he left I reiterated that I didn't want him hurting anyone—more than was absolutely necessary to get into that locked room—and then headed back up to Jonathan's study. I wanted the escape to be successful, but I also wanted to get information. Maybe this base wasn't high up on the legion's lackies list, but maybe it was. I mean, the demons had trusted them enough to practically run New York on their own, without much in the ways of demonic reinforcement. Or had that been because they didn't think they were worth protecting?

I needed answers, so I went up to that office and started looking through documents. A lot of it seemed like it might be important, but then, I couldn't tell. For all I knew, half of the stuff was a demonic recipe book or something. Yes, like half of it was in demonic. And yes, I could read it, but it was about the same as reading Fizz's magic theory. Made no sense.

So, I thought maybe I should just take everything.

But then, that would be suspicious right? Taking a whole room of paperwork down with me to interrogate the prisoners/loyalists? So, I kind of got caught up in trying to figure out what was the most important to take with me, when suddenly I realized I wasn't alone.

I thought maybe it was Chris, back to let me know things had gone smoothly—or hadn't, whatever—but when I looked up, it took me a minute to realize I was staring across the table at Nicolas and a human woman I'd never seen before.

Even as I wondered how they'd gotten in, I realized that they were wearing military-ish clothing, so they'd probably jumped some patrol or something. Before I could say hello or anything, really, Nicolas was around the desk, leaning toward me threateningly.

"If you ever drug me again—"

"I needed to get in here," I said as fast as I could and then glanced down the hall to make sure no one else was there. I mean, it wouldn't work to see your new leader getting bullied by a guard, would it? "Listen, Eric and Fizz are making a portal in the basement. Everyone loyal to my world is getting rounded up and should be in there in a few minutes, okay? And Clara's okay and already back in Azeroth!"

Well, that last bit made him calm down. Which made him listen to what I had to say.

So, the other human, wasn't really a human at all. She was that orc rogue. She'd come in after us to tell us about reinforcements or something and it had taken her a while to find us, but when she did, everyone was unconscious. Except for Nicolas. He was already coming to, of course.

I think Greg would call him a God-moder, but I'm not sure if I'm using that term completely right. But like, nothing ever effects him the way it should.

I hate him.

Anyway, she'd shown up and made sure everyone was alive and whatnot and then she and Nicolas had left a note and headed out to find a way into the base. And found me.

Well, they brought up a good point that I hadn't thought of before: even if the escape was successful, how had I planned to let them know that it had been so that they wouldn't charge needlessly into a hive of angry enemies?

Obviously, I hadn't thought of that at all.

So the orc lady, whose name I can't remember—no surprise there, right? —headed off almost immediately to go let the others know. However, instead of just telling them to stand down, Nicolas told her to tell them to come attack.

When I tried to argue he was like, "The people we don't want to hurt will either be in Azeroth or in the basement by the time we get here, yes?"

Well, no arguing with that.

So she left. And not long after that at all, Chris came back to tell me that everyone had been successfully herded into the room. So I went back into bitch-mode, which was really awkward with Nicolas standing there—by the way, he and the orc had taken out people who had goggles and stuff, so their faces were obscured—and told him to take me down to see them.

Well, my plan sort of fell apart here. Just a little, though.

Like, we got down there and most of the people were tied up with those plastic ties that are like impossible to break, so they couldn't go anywhere. And Fizz and Eric were still tied up. And there were like five of the baddies around with guns.

So it was me and Nicolas against them, with lots of potential victims to be used against us. I didn't know what to do, and I totally made everyone suspicious by seeing what was happening and instantly demanding that the guys with guns get out of the room. They did, but they were standing around the door and I knew the second Fizz and Eric started to make the portal, everything was going to unravel.

Luckily, my mentor was there. I may hate the man, but he really is useful.

Well, Nicolas called for Eric to change, even as he nailed one of the guards in the throat with his blade. He had the second one down before anyone knew what had happened. As the guards realized they'd been played, I caught one of them in the neck with my own dagger and tried not to think of the sound his skin made as the blade bit into him.

Now, I'd seen the little memory or whatever in the fog that tauren guy had summoned and so I knew that Eric was a werewolf, but still…to suddenly hear a chair rip apart and stuff…and to hear the people in there scream.

At first, I didn't get why Eric hadn't just wolfed out on these guys, but even if he could use that to surprise one or two of them, he wouldn't have been able to get past all of them, and I guess he didn't want to run into the city and get lost and then have like us looking for them and them looking for us and the bad guys looking for everyone.

I missed his transformation, but he got the last of the guards who had been in the room with us and then he broke Fizz free while Nicolas went about untying the others. I had to shake one of the nearest ones to get them to say something so that I could tell them what was going on, but even as I tried to let them know that they were being saved, it occurred to me that there had been five, not four guards.

I looked around at the corpses and sucked in a breath as I realized Chris was missing. Even as that occurred to me, I heard noises starting overhead. The hive had been kicked.

I darted back into the hallway and toward the stairs, but dodged back when a few bullets slammed into the ground in front of me. I'd been thinking that maybe Nicolas and I could hold back the enemy while the others fled—again, something I probably wouldn't have considered if I hadn't been high on fel magic—but there was no way.

Nicolas had come after me and he jerked me back and into the room, slamming the door behind us. As we went, the hallway filled with the sounds of gunshots and one of the bullets ricocheted off some water pipe or something and into my leg. Yes, the one that always gets hurt.

Nicolas jammed one of my daggers into the door's lock to break it. At first, I thought the bad guys might just shoot through the walls, but this was an older building that had been some sort of government one. It had concrete walls. And the door was thick. So even if they shot at it, it'd take them a while to get through.

Well, I couldn't really walk and my side was hurting really badly, so I was useless, again. Nicolas and one of the loyalists pushed pretty much everything they could find in front of the door to keep them from coming in while Eric and Fizz chanted.

We could hear yelling outside as they talked about how to get into the room—one person mentioned using a grenade, but someone else asked him if he really wanted to damage the foundation of the building they all  _lived_  in—and I felt like this had to take the cake for dumbest thing I'd ever gotten us into.

But then, Neesera and the others would be here shortly and there was a portal in the works.

I was losing a lot of blood and another of the loyalists was trying to help me stem the bleeding—he wanted to take the bullet out, but I was so being a pansy about it—when I thought I heard Fizz say that Eric's robe wasn't going to cut it as a source for the portal on our end, because they needed more magic, not just an item. And then I heard Eric say something that sounded like, "He'll kill us…" and Fizz go on about choices and then…

I blacked out.


	38. Catching Up

So it turns out that the reason my side was hurting when the enemies were bearing down on us was actually because I'd been shot not once, but twice. But it's weird because I never felt the impact and I never realized that I was bleeding as badly as I was. I don't know; I guess I got caught up in all the action?

Well, when I came to, I was kind of upset to find that I was back in the Exodar. Like, I was thinking about all the weeks I'd have to spend going back to the Dark Portal and then through Hellfire and Zangarmarsh just to get back to New York, when Clara ninja attacked me from behind in this massive bear hug.

The woman may be a priest, but holy crap, her grip is strong. Well, she was all petting my hair and saying reassuring things about me not dying—didn't realize I apparently  _was_  dying so I ended up less comforted and more freaked out—and it took forever for her to ease up on me and explain what had happened.

So much.

First off, there is now a steady portal straight from the Exodar to my world. There is also a portal from Shattrath to New York. And. It gets better.

I guess the draenei back in Azeroth made contact with some people in Brazil through that second window. They're still going strong. And, a cool tidbit, but there have been refugees coming down from the north to the southern areas. Not like in that movie, Day After Tomorrow, or anything, but little bands of people are 'emerging' from the hell that is the northern half of my world. Like, the Brazilians have Canadians crashing on their couches. Well, it's only like three guys—hard core hiker guys—but still, it's reassuring, right? That people actually can make it from Canada to safety.

And I guess while I was out, Fizz was shipped off to Brazil. The Exodar is like a giant hub of activity now, which Clara seemed to find odd or ironic or something, but I never really asked for details. First off, it has the portal to New York, so Clara's guildmates and her friends and stuff have been marching off to battle. By the way, I was out for almost a full week, so I've, as usual, missed a lot. Second, there's the portal to Brazil. A lot of refugees are coming in and there are a lot of adventurers going to my world to help reinforce the lines of defense or something.

They're working on more portals, too. Like the one they just got working is to Egypt. They're working on ones for China and Australia, too.

Oh, um. You might be thinking, "How does this work? No one can communicate across worlds or half these countries for that…."

Well, that's why Fizz is in Brazil. From what I hear he's  _very_  reluctantly shared his translation spell and now he's leading a band of mages through my world, slapping the spell on everyone they meet. Which has serious potential to open up all sorts of doors once they make it to the countries that don't speak Spanish—Portuguese…? Crap, I don't remember Brazil's native language.

Anyway. My point stands. Once they're beyond those borders, it'll be like making the world smaller and more…more like Azeroth.

He'll be back in New York in a few days. Then he's going to the Exodar and then to Egypt to lead another band of mages in spell casting. He's promised to keep in touch with me though, so I'm happy.

If I could use magic, then I could help, but…meh.

Oh. That's another thing I wanted to address. Magic in my world. I'll get there in a minute, but seriously, it's…just wow.

So.

Clara finished filling me in on all the crazy stuff that's happened and on how there's now all these different battle fronts on my world and how apparently the Exodar is temporarily allowing Horde in it so that they can assist my world as well. The draenei really don't like blood elves, but they seem to tolerate them just fine so long as the elves are making bee lines for the portals. I don't think there's been a lot of them coming through, either.

Well, once I'd assured Clara that I was capable of moving and stuff, everything fell to business. I couldn't fathom why she was taking me back to the inn of all places—as I wasn't exactly welcome there after Fizz and Brath's fight—but when we got there, everything started to make sense.

There was this wicked tall guy there. Like, towering over us. Clara didn't even seem to register how we had to crane our necks back to look up into his glowing eyes and purple-blue skin. And long, long shock-white hair. Apparently he is a night elf.

Side note: His name is Kelveris and he's a hardcore raider. Like, he fights monsters with sharp objects and claws on a regular basis. What I don't get is how his freakin' long ears are still intact. It seems like a monster would have swiped at least one off by now—he said he was like ten thousand years old, too, so seriously. How does he still have those ears? Seems like an enemy rogue would take one off to throw off his balance or something.

Anyway.

So we exchanged pleasantries for a bit and the whole time he's eyeing my body and I'm thinking, "What's wrong with this guy?" But then out of the blue, he pulls out a measuring tape.

He's a leatherworker. Like, a really good one. I am once again sporting Azerothian gear. And this stuff is so much nicer than my last outfit. It's soft and snug and not super annoying and I can almost forget that I'm wearing dead animals.

That bothers me. Like, it didn't really register last time that the stuff they were handing me to wear was dried out animal skins, but they were. These people need to be introduced to polyester and that military grade stuff that's not animal.

I'm not some hippy or anything, but I don't want to run into Bambi in the woods and be like, "I'm sorry I'm wearing your mother."

…

Yeah.

So anyway. My clothes are pretty nice. Kelveris tried to get me to do a handspring to see if I thought my clothes were flexible enough, but I'm not that…athletic? When I tried to tell him that, he said I was the oddest rogue he'd ever met.

Whatever.

He's a nice guy though.

After my clothes were made—along with a back up set, which I thought was pretty nice—suddenly they were handing me all these heavy bags and shouldering their own.

I guess it was just expected that I'd be going back to my world with them? Which, I was planning on doing, but I wasn't expecting to be treated like a fellow raider. I mean, surely they have better trained people to go vanquishing evil with them.

I considered arguing that it was a colossally bad idea, but you know what. Maybe it's not. Maybe I won't be good in a fight, but I understand more of my world than I realized. So we'll see.

But as we got to the portal, I nearly jumped for joy, even with all that crap weighing me down.

Because Maevlen was standing there, with a big grin on his face. He was hunkered down with stuff, too. And he still offered to carry some of my stuff. He's so nice.

Well. Maevlen knew to fill me in on all the other stuff I missed that Clara hadn't thought to point out and I have to say…

I missed some of the best moments of this adventure.

Like seeing the Horde and Alliance team up and tear into the base, their shields denting from bullets, but not breaking—apparently obsidium and titanium are really strong—as they did a frontal assault on the base, with Brath breathing fire and picking up anyone who tried to flee from the building.

Or like when the draenei paladins came through that portal after everyone had been evacuated.

Or when Maevlen came through that portal and relieved Fizz and Eric so that they could get their injuries treated.

I guess Eric carried me through the portal? I have to say he doesn't seem like he'd be strong enough to pick up someone else, even little me. But then, maybe he was a werewolf for that?

We were through the portal and heading up the stairs and out into the street before I finally thought about that last conversation I'd heard before passing out and asked about it. Clara tried to brush it off, and our newest traveling companion got this grim look, and Maevlen got this grave look. And it seemed like no one was gonna tell me anything.

But then!

The flapping of wings and a gleeful roar—Brath does not like me labeling anything he does as gleeful, but he can get over it—overwhelmed us and we stopped in our tracks, looking up.

Side note: Derres wasn't killed fighting Deathwing! He's here! In my world! With some of his friends or siblings or whatever. Basically, there's a bunch of dragons—a bunch being like twelve—who are like our aerial scouts or something. I don't know.

But when we looked up, we saw a few other dragons kind of hovering and looking down with surprised/blank expressions as Brath dive-bombed us.

He completely forgot about his rider and shifted back to his human form, leaving Mr. Blackheart to plummet about ten feet to the ground—of course it was that stupid sack of bones—and caught me in a suffocating hug. And then he glared at Clara and the others as though to make a point of showing that no, he was not happy to see them.

Brath's social graces were lacking as usual and his version of being a chivalrous knight was taking my heavy bags and tossing them to Mr. Blackheart. The Forsaken tossed one back at him and Brath grudgingly carried it. I figured that warlock would go off on him for doing it, but that was when I saw that he was actually happy. To see  _me_.

I'm still not too sure on that. Like, I don't know what exactly I did to make him think I was worth keeping around. But yeah. Maybe it's like I'm his friend's girlfriend so he likes me by default or just to make Brath happy?

They're both sociopaths, so it's kinda hard to tell sometimes.

Oh, while Brath was taking my things, he'd just cleared one of my arms when suddenly Kelveris dropped one of his heavier bags onto my shoulder and I nearly fell over. Brath had it off my arm and was about to shoulder it himself when he sniffed the air and glared at the elf. And threw the bag back at him while Kelveris grinned.

Well, after introductions were tossed around and our evil duo guides insisted on leading us to the 'inn'—which was a legit hotel, and actually the very one Nicolas and I had spied on the human base from just before our infiltration—it occurred to me that no one had answered my question about that conversation, so I asked Brath, figuring he'd tell me.

Well. He didn't know anything about any problems with any portals and started his whole, "I think you would like to ask a mage," line when Mr. Blackheart spoke up, since he'd been there for the whole thing, tied up in the corner as everyone forgot to unbind the dead guy.

When they were trying to make the portal back to the Exodar, Fizz and Eric were too weak to use his robe as a focal point thing, so they had to improvise. Now, while they'd been striving in vain, Nicolas had let one of his beloved blades leave his hand. He gave it to one of the loyalists to help cut free the other prisoners so that they'd stand a fighting chance if the enemies came through the one tiny door separating them from us. And when the duo hadn't been able to make the portal, the guy with the dagger had put two and two together and realized they needed something from their world, so he handed them the legendary weapon to use.

Remember what happened to my goggles? Yeah. Nicolas' left dagger is now a pile of dust, scattered across the room by the constant traffic from the portal.

So…when I heard that…I didn't mean to, but I totally cackled.

Clara's kind of mad at me, but Kelveris thought it was funny that I can't stand Nicolas and would be pleased with his misfortune. His words, not mine. Though it's true enough…

Meh. I can feel bad for the guy and still think what happened was funny. And Brath and Mr. Blackheart were amused as well. Which, I suppose means I don't really stand in good company…hmm…

Everything was going so well that I didn't want to focus on the fact that I might be leaning a little toward the evil side—I can always blame it on the fel magic that was still in my system—and I started to really look around, because the people before us had picked up the place.

Well, while we were walking, it was so cool. There were humans and draenei and other creatures walking in small groups, with weapons. Some people were fixing up streetlights, others were teaching groups of draenei and Azerothians about our styles of guns. There was even a night elf duo who were trying—and somewhat succeeding—to restore a small garden in front of one of the buildings that had been previously covered by a thrown car.

As I looked at everyone and everything happening around us, it dawned on me.

The base, as you probably figured out, is ours.

More than that. We have almost six New York City blocks under our control. That might not seem like much, but that seems like a lot to have secured in a single week. And we're still expanding as we get more weathered veterans from Azeroth's wars.

Maybe things will change tomorrow, maybe something awful will happen, but right now, we're turning the tides and I think everyone can feel it.

We're going to get our world back.

 


	39. Fame and Fate

So, it's been a month since we took the base. Our progress has slowed, but we've decided not to abandon the base to the demons and just work on pushing them back from one of the other fronts.

Why?

Because word is spreading about our little haven and people from as far away as Winnipeg, Canada have been heading our way. There's been talk of setting up a few bases like this in Europe to help the survivors there, but it's a hard call. Yes, they deserve to be saved, but do we have the man power?

Really, we should focus on one front, probably, but I'm not huge on all that military strategizing, so I don't know how thin we're really stretched out.

We're still only keeping about nine blocks secure, but we have regular patrols throughout other parts of the city and some have formed search parties to travel to neighboring towns in search of survivors.

And, well, not to bask in attention or anything, but people know  _me_.

I'd been back about a week and the fel magic was almost out of my system—finally—when I was patrolling with Senta'ri and Eric. Brath had been going to cover us aerially, but, oh my god.

So we're heading out and Senta'ri and Cat were waiting for us when suddenly I see something in the corner of my eye and I turn to see an Arabic version of the kid from the Omen standing not ten feet from me, his glowy red eyes trained on me and Brath. Well, I figured this was demonic possession at its finest, so I started looking for someone who might be able to expel it form the poor boy—I didn't want to kill the kid if he wasn't a willing host or whatever—when suddenly Nicolas was there, bowing and calling someone a Black Prince.

That's what they call the devil, isn't it? Well, I'm freaking out that this is some pit lord like what Michel had said would scare the shit out of me, when Brath stepped forward and was like, "Little brother, what brings you here?"

Seriously? That's who Nicolas was working for? First, he's like nine. At best. Second, he's from the freakin' Omen, I swear. So creepy looking.

I know, I know. I should be used to weird things by now. I mean, I can see draenei and night elves and all that without panicking—blood elves and warlocks still freak me out, but only because of the fel magic and honestly I'm getting better and differentiating between them and real demons—but this guy was just…scary.

Well, he did this flourished bow, and then looked at me and nodded, polite like. "I am sorry if you had plans, Miss Ford, but I need my brother." When I gripped Brath's arm and looked ready to argue, he smiled at me and for a minute, I could see past those freaky eyes and to the familial resemblance. "I promise we will return him to you alive and well."

Brath snorted. "In my right mind, I could easily take you, little whelp."

The kid just looked up at him calmly, though Nicolas looked pissed off. However, he merely shrugged and motioned for Brath to follow him. "Come, we've much to speak about."

And to my surprise, Brath sighed, nodded to me, and then headed off after the little kid with Nicolas.

It was the strangest thing I'd ever seen.

Even as I stared after him, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Senta'ri was standing there, a curious stare on the receding trio. "Wat dat be about, mon?"

When I shrugged, he sighed. We considered waiting for Brath, but then, it had seemed like they were going to take a while and we were restless. Worse, we didn't really want to wander off into the city just the two of us, since even though I'm getting better with my daggers every day, I'm still not great for back up. So we figured we would need someone else.

All of the other dragons were busy—technically, Brath was supposed to be guarding the base like them, but he just gave them the bird whenever they tried to talk to him about responsibility and stuff, so they sort of gave up on him—and most of our friends were coming back from their own scouting missions or already passed out. We found that tauren shaman, I can never remember his name, but when I started to call out to him to get his attention since he was just resting beneath a tree or something, Senta'ri stopped me. Apparently he was less resting and more meditating.

While warlocks have it pretty easy here in my world, the rest of the casters are still struggling. Neesera and a few other shamans seem to think that they can figure it out, but all that line of thinking has done is make them really reclusive. And they get cranky if you disturb them, so once I knew he was meditating, you couldn't have paid me to go talk to him.

Well, we were about to hit up some strangers to help fill out our group, when we saw good, old Eric, sitting beneath one of the trees the elves grew—it does not matter that there'd never been a tree there before. In fact, the night elves have reinforced all of our buildings with trees and so now the safe part of New York looks like something out of a fantasy story. Which I guess sort of fits, what with all the elves and draenei and everything walking around.

I was concerned that the demons might just send those giant fire guys, but apparently there are flame retardant spells that Azerothians use on stuff to protect against attacks or just drunken mages trying to show off with fire balls. Or against warlocks being warlocks.

They take a lot of energy for the casters to do, but we've all agreed that it's sort of worth it.

Oh, completely off the wall, but the flame retardant reminded me. Do you remember Sprig and Drizzle from Booty Bay? Well. Small worlds. Sprig's cousin, Crachette, is running an auction house out of one of the building's basements and Drizzle's little sister's best friend, Vev—that's gotta be a nickname—is running her own bar. I guess Fizz wrote home about the potential to make money in the brave new world and now the goblins are coming in to capitalize.

A lot of people from my world have had to barter to get stuff from either establishment, though, since we don't carry around gold coins.

Anyway, so off topic. We saw Eric and he was practicing making fire dance over his palm—to make it easier to cast in general—and for another minute, he so reminded me of Greg. But even as I started to get sad and wonder where my brother was and if he was really one of the bad guys, Eric saw us and perked up.

So we wandered over and it turned out that he'd just missed a few others heading out, so he was more than happy to tag along with us. At first, we weren't sure if we'd be good, the three of us, but Eric can just turn into a werewolf and kick butt, even if his spells are a little weak right now.

Since I found out he was a werewolf I've been kind of uneasy, since you know, I didn't really know if that was something you just openly talked about or if it was like an unspoken thing or what. And I wanted to apologize to him for thinking he was some sort of creeper, but then I'd have to tell him I'd thought he was one to begin with, so I'd kind of been avoiding him.

But, well, Senta'ri wasn't concerned with any possible drama or worries bouncing around in my head so he just waved Eric over and asked how soon he could be ready to go. Eric knows Fizz's translation spell, by the way, and he's cast it on himself and a few others so that they can cheat and speak Orcish and Zandali and those other Azerothian languages they wouldn't normally know. Senta'ri loves it because he can speak in his native tongue and leave most people in the dark, but we'll still get his jokes.

And, get this, the Horde/Alliance tensions don't seem  _as_  bad in my world. Maybe it's different in other places. Or maybe it's because only those willing to put aside their differences have really come to my world, since the portals are all on Alliance territory.

I think people were worried the Horde might try an attack on the Exodar, claiming to be coming to aid my world, but they take the Legion really seriously. Someone said they'd trust the Horde when some guy called Hellscream comes out here, but I don't know. From what I hear—from Alliance and Horde, too—he's kind of dick. But apparently a really good fighter, so maybe he could fit in the same way Mr. Blackheart and Brath and Nicolas do.

Who knows?

If he shows up, cool. If not, fine by me.

Apparently he did sign off on allowing some of his guard to come 'evaluate' this world's problems, though. So he can't be all bad. I think they went to Brazil? I don't know. They aren't here.

Aaaanyway.

Getting back to the introduction of my celebrity…

So the three of us headed off into the city. Senta'ri and Eric have things called ground mounts. Trolls ride raptors—like real living, breathing, prehistoric dinosaurs—and Eric has a regular horse. He let me ride with him since the raptor looked like it wanted to snack on me.

One of the skyscrapers is being used as a stable, by the way. A lot of adventurers have both flying and ground mounts and so they leave one in the care of the stablekeepers while they travel around on the other. And a lot of people are using ground mounts if they're staying in the city, because it's easier to find demons hiding or survivors if you're not up in the air. You might think it'd be the other way around, but there's still so much debris that fly overs are really only useful for spotting large pockets of people or enemies, not a group of say five who've spent the last few months hiding beneath broken cars and in shattered doorframes.

So anyway, we were on ground mounts, traveling through the city and we reached the end of the cleared area—they've been working on picking up the streets so that it's easier for mounts and people to walk on, and as a sort of sign to people coming that they're headed in the right direction.

We'd been traveling for almost five hours and were debating whether we wanted to keep going and camp out in the city or just head back and maybe get a bigger group—healers were still kind of useless because it took so much to cast even a single healing spell, but that didn't mean we couldn't hit up some melee guys to help us out…or maybe an alchemist to keep plenty of potions on hand—when we heard something scuffling nearby.

Well, Eric tensed, ready to wolf out on them, and Senta'ri's pet went stealth mode—Cat is like a kitty rogue—and I slipped into the shadows when this guy came stumbling out of a building we'd just passed, looking all desperate and dirty and waving his hands.

He stopped short when he saw Senta'ri, like he was afraid he'd made a huge mistake. At first, none of us moved, because we weren't sure who was on what side. But then Eric waved to him and asked if he was looking for sanctuary.

That guy just about broke down crying he was so happy to have found us. His name was Isaiah and he'd been leading a group of about twelve people from Maryland.

So, I should sort of point something out. The good guys, the loyalists, have been sending coded messages using the internet, from different Legion bases—and in case I forgot to mention, the Legion is keeping the internet up, because they use it to track down pockets of survivors who try to reach out to others…I don't think they've quite figured out that part though, because it seems like a lot of survivors have figured out how to bounce signals so that they can't be pinpointed.

Anyway, one of the guys from our base thought to risk sending out a message to the other bases and anyone else who understood the encryption that things were happening where we are.

That's how some people knew to start heading for New York.

And Isaiah's group? They pretty much packed up and ran away from their base the night they got the message. Unfortunately, they'd been attacked by demons a few days before and there were only four of them left. They'd figured that they were going to be killed in the next day or so, but had been hopeful when they'd come to the cleared part of the streets, though they'd been resting to wait for nightfall to go further, since they didn't want to leave themselves in the open as they pressed on—we hadn't considered how that might make refugees feel defenseless and I considered going back to the base to tell them to put back some of the debris, but Isaiah said that it wasn't  _that_  important.

None of his group played WoW, so they were  _all_  all sorts of surprised to see a troll. It did take a while to convince them he wasn't some new type of demon they hadn't seen before, but after they were certain he was friendly, they were all super curious about him. Senta'ri loved it. He kept posing for them and stuff.

Well, of course we headed back with them to get them to safety, and we let some of them ride on the mounts—a little girl with them got to ride on Cat's back, though I'm not so sure the panther liked it. Well, as we're going along, almost back to the base, we realized that we hadn't introduced ourselves yet. Isaiah and the others were quick to apologize for having been so distracted by our trollish friend, but Eric and I didn't mind. After all, I remember the first time I met a creature that wasn't human. I'd taken a while to get used to it, too.

…I miss Fizz.

Anyway, they introduced themselves with first and last names—not gonna lie, I've been meeting so many people, I can't remember everyone's names—and so we did, too. Senta'ri's last name is Bonegrinder, by the way. Sounds kind of ominous. Eric's last name is Fieldson. Never realized that before.

When I introduced myself, the four rescuees all stared at me strange like. So, I kind of tried to ignore it for a minute before eyeing them and asking what was up?

And the little girl goes, "You're Amy Ford? The one who went to the other world to save ours?"

Awkward.

Not because of the question, but because of the way they were looking at me and I was so scared that I'd say something and they'd look as disappointed as Michel had when he first met me. Before I could say anything, Senta'ri was talking.

"Ya be hearin' about lila Ameh, huh?"

Well.

That killed his spotlight. Suddenly they wanted to know everything about me and it was so weird. I did my best to fill them in on stuff and it was kind of fun because unlike Michel, they didn't seem deterred by my appearance and the fact that I didn't know everything about everything.

By the time we parted ways, I was feeling like I'd really done some good, you know? I mean, I knew I had before, but…I guess I wasn't expecting thanks or gratitude? Like, I'd always felt like I was yards behind where I should be? They changed that. Yes, I'm still guilt-riddled in regards to a lot of the people who died, but…it's more bearable now.

Like I said, that was the first week after I'd been back and now it's been a month. And it still surprises me that people know me. And they're always like, "Wait,  _you're_  Amy?" Like they can't believe they're in front of the real Amy Ford.

It's a good thing I have Brath around, or I might get a little conceited.

Oh, if you're wondering, Brath's little brother—who I have been directed to call Wrath because of my inability to pronounce dragon names—is planning on funding adventures in Azeroth to find other black dragons and ship them to my world, since coming here seems to break the hold the old gods have on things.

While that means that the old gods' minions are likely to start coming after us and maybe even team up with the Legion, my bigger concern is that introducing dragons as a permanent fixture in my world might not…end well. But, who am I to argue with giant magical reptiles? Though I get the impression Wrath is a lot smaller than Brath—rhyming names—when he's a dragon.

And anyway, if it saves them from having to be killed, I suppose I should be glad that they can even come to my world.

You might think that Brath has changed into some upstanding citizen since he stopped hearing voices whisper in his head, but…no. Not really. He still threatens to eat people—and means it—and hisses and breathes fire and such when he's in his dragon form. Another thing he does is dig at the ground with his claws and then sniff it. And then he glares at me like I've done something horribly wrong and flies off to sulk.

I haven't figured out all of his problems yet, but maybe it has to do with pollution? Maybe he thinks my world's humans are even worse than his world's humans? Or maybe he just thinks we could use an earthwarder—a non crazy one, no offense to Brath's dead dad—to keep us in line. Or maybe he thinks the demons are the ones who messed up our world and doesn't realize we kinda helped with screwing things over.

I say maybe it's pollution related because the shamans and druids kind of act the same way and I'm pretty sure they can tell that not all of the nature damage is demon related.

I'm so never telling Neesera about the garbage island in the Pacific.

Speaking of. She's been like all the other shamans lately, and kind of off to herself. Now, I know I said before that they've been meditating a lot. I don't really know what they're doing it for, but I think they're making progress because they—as a whole—have been in better moods lately. And they've been messing with their totems, which is spell related.

Well, I got a message from Neesera's squirrel—we're still using them, too, to patrol the city and keep watch for any demonic portals opening nearby; we're also keeping a lot of detect invisibility potions on hand—that she wanted to hang out with me because it'd been forever and she needed to clear her head.

As I shouldered the squirrel and started to grab a few things—you always want to keep weapons and healing potions on you, in case of a surprise attack—I just happened a glance out my window.

And who should I see standing in the middle of the street?

Greg.

 


	40. Surprise

Okay.

First of all, I have seen horror movies. I know what happens when the heroine (or worse, side character) goes off to follow the person they know who's acting strange. They die. Horrible, horrible deaths.

So I wasn't about to go finding Greg by myself. So I sent Neesera's squirrel back to her with a quick message—oh, I should mention, some guys here have 'upgraded' Neesera's squirrels. They're our new camera system since apparently the virus Michel used on the old cameras did irreversible damage to their software or programming or something? So they are now real-time, moving cameras. A few people are trying to get them to have speakers so that we can announce to people we find to follow the squirrel back to base instead of having a little piece of paper rolled up on them—the squirrels are programmed to generally try to avoid being touched by strangers since they'd be running up to demons and such if they weren't, but that makes it harder to get the message to other people—but so far they haven't figured that one out.

Anyway, so I sent Neesera's squirrel to her and kept an eye out for anyone who could help me as I headed outside. We've all pretty much taken up residence in that hotel across the street from the old, original base. We've got some people who are making beds and stuff for the rooms and it's kind of weird to see a king suite get turned into a barracks that can house like twenty people. Hello fire code violations, though with those flame retardant spells I mentioned before, I guess it's not a huge deal.

And even though they've made that many beds for some of the rooms, it doesn't mean there's bodies to fill them all. And my room is pretty empty. I mean, I share it with Brath, Maevlen, and Neesera, but everyone's schedules are so weird that we practically never see each other, so it's like having a single, just with some other people's stuff in it.

You may be wondering about me and Brath. Well, it's a little complicated—isn't everything?—but…I don't know. He still flirts shamelessly, and Clara and a few others give me stern looks, but we haven't really moved forward since that kiss. It's like our lives are on hold while we save the world. Or maybe he's punishing me for drugging him that one time.

So lame.

Anyway. I should probably get back on track to what's happening.

I was almost to the street door and wondering what I would do if I made it to where I'd seen Greg and was still alone. Would I end up falling right into the dumb, clueless role like in the movies?

I just…I didn't want to let him wander around our base, learning the layout, if he was really with the demons. But, more than that…I wanted to know the truth. Like, maybe he'd just been pretending?

I guess, even though I wanted to find someone to go with me, I'd already started playing everything out in my head, right? Like, I'd follow him somewhere, maybe the original headquarters—they had all these trip walls and hiding places and we practically had to tear down the building to find all of them just to get to all of the information they had on the Legion and their plans. When we got there, I'd interrupt whatever he was doing and demand answers.

Why had he sent me the email if he was planning on joining Team Destroy Everything? I mean, it was just dumb. He wouldn't have protected me if he—

Oh my god.

I'm so dumb. So, so, so…

As the realization hit me, I stumbled to a stop and abruptly felt my throat tightening. Suddenly, I didn't want to find Greg. Because if I did and it turned out…

Greg sometimes sent out emails to all of the people in his address book. Some of the jokes or websites are really not in my interests and I'd even complained to mom and dad, asking them to make Greg take me off his list. I tried to point out that it wasn't like he ever emailed me anything personal anyway, and I'd been ready a couple times to block his account, just so I wouldn't get all that junk. But mom had insisted that we keep each other's addresses, so that we could contact one another if there was an emergency. When I'd asked what the point was when we had cell phones, mom had just gotten mad at me and told me that deleting emails wasn't that hard and someday I'd be happy to have his email address.

What if…he hadn't meant to send me that warning? What if it was just the fact that he'd forgotten I was in his address book when he sent it to the people who mattered to him?

All this time. All this time I thought he'd been looking out for me, being the big brother. I mean, I know we were never super close and our interests rarely went in the same direction, but…

But what? He's family? What does that even mean?

I didn't want to find him and have him laugh at me, tell me that I'd never meant anything to him or something horrible like that. He's my big brother after all. When we were little, I used to always want to be like him. I used to chase after him, climb trees after him, all that. He was my hero.

I guess I still want him to be and if I meet up with him, then…then I might have to see that he's not. That maybe he's never been.

Anyway.

I was in the hall just in front of the doorway and it was a rare moment where no one was coming or going and I was able to just stand there. What finally got me moving wasn't some sense of right or wrong or even that I figured I'd be able to get past my own insecurities.

Rather abruptly, I realized that I could feel fel magic. Lots, and lots of fel magic.

For a second, I forgot about Greg and ran out into the street to see what was happening. At first, everything looked normal, but then I looked up and saw that the clouds overhead—I've yet to see the sun since I came back to my world—were darker than usual.

It only took the flash of a memory of Booty Bay to go through my head to know what was happening. And so, at the top of my lungs, I yelled, "INFERNALS!"

That caught plenty of people's attentions and at first they were all confused, but even as they started looking up toward the sky, green spheres began to crack through the clouds, lighting them green and leaving smoking streaks as they plummeted into the earth.

In a breath, we were plunged into chaos.

One slammed into the building above me and I heard screams as it caught people who'd been sleeping. I started to go up, but I could feel something watching me and I turned my head back toward the street.

There was Greg, just as I remembered him. Hazel eyes, messy hair, a speckling of freckles across his nose from when he was little and still liked playing out in the sun. Part of me was so glad to see him, to know that he was really okay.

But the rest of me…

He was watching me with this look. It was like a mixture of surprise and incredulity. Even as I stared back at him, eyes wide, one of the infernals crashed into the road beside him and loomed up. However, it merely glanced toward him and then whirled away, charging a few guards who had stumbled out of the nearest building.

People were shouting—a few were screaming, though this time I wasn't one of them—and I could hear the sounds of concrete and metal and brick crumbling beneath the pressure of the demons.

I saw Isaiah grab two kids who had been playing in the streets and tug them into a doorway, shoving them inside before reaching for his rifle, hanging off his shoulder. His face was drawn and ashen and I could tell that he'd never seen these creatures before. He shot one as it went after a gnome priestess and the creature let out a deep rumble as it turned to face him, his bullet barely having made a dent in the creature's rock body.

Everywhere I turned, people were fighting helplessly against the flaming rock giants. The Azerothians were faring better than the people from my world. They still carried their melee weapons and they were trained enough to put enough force into their swings to crack the stone. Two orc warriors managed to hack off one of another creature's legs and then bash in its skull when it fell.

Even with the one victory, more were coming out of the sky, as though the whole of the Legion had turned its attention toward us. It occurred to me that they were going to keep coming until every last one of us lay broken and beaten in the streets.

I was too lost in the moment to hear the one come up behind me, but as I felt that familiar heat, I darted out of the way just in time as it's arm slammed down on where I'd been. I tried shooting it's head with the handgun I keep tucked into my belt these days, and I did manage to crack the rock a bit, but, like Isaiah's weapon, it was mostly useless because I would have had to hit that exact same spot to break its head open and I'm not that good a shot.

I tripped over the roots of one of those darn trees the druids keep growing everywhere, and fell backwards, cutting my hand on broken asphalt and twisting my ankle.

However, as the creature loomed over me, I heard chanting and suddenly these chains just materialized out of nowhere and the creature whirled away from me to attack one of its fellow demons.

I stared at where it had been for a moment before I considered that it had to have been a warlock to have stopped it and I knew it had been Greg. But then, as I looked toward where I'd last seen my brother, I saw a goblin flash me a thumbs up and then turn his attention away, shadows seething around his fingers as he attacked another of the creatures.

Greg hadn't saved me. A stranger had.

I tried not to think about it.

And then, something clicked in my head.

The whole reason I went to Azeroth to begin with. Warlocks control demons.

There was no way to tell if this was sound reasoning, but with things as they were, I didn't have time to test my theory or ask someone if I might be right. These creatures weren't like the felguards. I'd read a bit in my book about them and they weren't as intelligent as some of the other demons. They were manufactured.

Which meant they were being controlled.

My gaze swept the street until I saw Greg. He was further down the road now—apparently finding his little sister alive hadn't been enough of a surprise to warrant canceling the attack or even heading in my direction. He didn't look like he was contributing to the fighting himself, but rather he was holding something in one of his hands. I couldn't make out what it was, but I thought I could feel fel magic emanating from it—it was hard to tell with all the demons around.

I swallowed my bitterness that he could dismiss me so easily and rolled onto my feet, ignoring the dull pain in my ankle. I took off toward him, pushing myself to go faster and faster until everything else felt like a blur and even my own pain seemed numbed by the speed.

I may have been able to behead a felguard in a blind rage, but I doubted I could kill Greg. Even if I had managed to get physically stronger than him, he was still my brother. So, instead of focusing on him, I went for what was in his hand.

I don't think he ever saw me coming until he realized that he was empty handed and I was stumbling to a stop a few feet away from him. I heard him shout something out, but I ignored him.

He'd been holding a glowing orb in his hand and as I looked down at it, it seemed to glow with a malice of its own. I didn't know what to do with it, so I did the only think I could think of. I pulled back my arm and threw the orb down as hard as I could. A few cracks slithered over its surface, but overall, it was still intact.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and was abruptly shoved to the ground as Greg hurried past me and stooped to pick up the stupid thing. However, I kicked it out of his reach and he paused to glare at me before hurrying after it.

That was all the time I needed. I jerked my handgun loose, slipped off the safety, and prayed that my aim was better than it used to be.

There was this brilliant flash of sickening green light and then an aftershock that sent me flying backwards. I thudded into the street and felt the wind in my lungs abandon me. However, cursing caught my attention and I managed to roll onto my side to see Greg had been flung back as well, though at a slightly different angle. He was pushing himself up and it looked like he'd landed on one of his arms because it was bleeding pretty badly.

However, even as he turned this hateful look toward me that broke my heart, Nicolas was there behind him. With a quick jab with the blunt end of his weapon, my brother was unconscious and Nicolas gave me a quick, approving nod before shouldering Greg and slipping through the fighting toward one of the buildings.

I felt lost. And angry. And oddly triumphant that I'd managed to do something that was really useful.

It was short lived though and before I could take a moment to sort out my feelings, I had to dodge as another infernal tried to squash me.

I'd barely made it to my feet when something  _truly_  amazing happened.

We'd been under siege for…maybe five or ten minutes, though it felt like so much longer. And if you looked around, you could see that people were getting tired. That was, those who were still standing. More than a few people lay scattered about the street, some bodies twisted, others in pools of blood, and it turned my stomach to think that they might all be dead. Even if I couldn't remember their names, I'd talked with so many of them, scouted with them, even saved a few.

The orb seemed to have been what was calling the creatures to us, but even without more coming, there were at least forty tearing through our base.

It was then, as people's faces began to reflect the growing hopelessness, the realization that whatever dreams we'd had about retaking our world had been foolish at best, that the shamans showed up.

One minute, you could taste the desperation in the air and the next…the next minute the air was filled with lightning and fire and the ground trembled at the call of casters. I could remember the feeling of what little magic had been used around me—mostly on practice dummies—in Azeroth, but this magic was different.

It felt like home.

 


	41. Magic, Magic Everywhere

It was amazing how fast the tides turned once the shamans showed up. Suddenly the monsters were crumbling beneath the might of their spells and the Azerothian adventurers became more daring and the people from my world followed suit.

Why?

Because we were getting healed.

Their spells were working on us. Suddenly it was okay if we got hit by one of the demons or if we got thrown into a wall, because the shamans' spells were working. All you had to do was call out for healing and BAM you're healed. And they weren't having to over-exert themselves.

It wasn't five minutes after they'd joined the fray and things were going great, when I got cornered by one of the monsters. See, I'd figured that everyone else was doing an awesome job repelling the invaders, so that meant I would have time to find and talk to Greg. I was sort of hoping that Nicolas wouldn't be a total dick about it, but then, that is his nature. But I figured that maybe I could help get information from Greg. After all we're siblings and even if he's not upfront about it, I know what buttons to push to make him snap and lash out—verbally of course.

I mean, I still didn't really get why Greg was with the Legion. I know I must've said this a million times, but as frustrated as he might get with life, he never was violent or anything. And he's had a few girlfriends and their breakups were always mutual and there was never any scared girls freaked out that he'd hurt them or him being super broody and emo about it.

So I just…it has to be some sort of trick, right?

Well, anyway. I was trying to remember which building Nicolas had been heading toward with my brother when I felt that fel heat just in time to dodge forward. I didn't move quite fast enough and I was flung through the air when the infernal's arm hit the pavement behind me. But, even as some dwarf shaman nearby noticed me and threw a heal my way—is that how you would refer to someone casting a quick heal on you?—suddenly this ball of red fire slammed into the infernal and he just crumbled.

At first, I figured it was one of the shamans, right? But as I glanced toward where the fireball had come from, my jaw dropped. It was  _Eric_.

He was in his werewolf form and he looked like he was having a blast. Like, I never knew that wolves could look giddy, but he pretty much outdid your typical school girl with a crush. Neesera was standing next to him, channeling continuous healing spells as her totems swayed near her feet.

I nodded toward them and wanted to go back to searching for Greg, but Eric hurried over to me, like we were regrouping to go after another one or something. I guess the fact that I'm still kind of useless in most combat didn't mean much to him.

But! It turned out he'd seen me smash that orb. A few people had. Namely because a few people had been heading over to break it themselves, but yeah. So, people were already happy to have me around since I sort of saved the day.

I mean, I'm sure someone would have broken it, but…I admit. I do kind of like basking in glory a little. And if it was Brath or Nicolas, they'd be soaking it up, so the fact that I can be proud about something isn't that vain, right?

Well, anyway, as they got to me, the fighting died down almost completely. There were still a few monsters left, but none were nearby and with no more coming, we could all breathe easy, at least for a while.

Most of the people in the street hurried off to tend to the injured or help kill the remaining demons and it was almost eerie how quickly the street quieted.

Even as I started to turn back toward the building that I was almost one hundred percent certain Nicolas had gone into, Eric and Neesera caught up to me. They were ecstatic.

Eric slung an arm around my shoulders and squeezed me hard enough that I felt one of my shoulders pop. I don't think he realized he was still in his wolf form and when he spoke, I was surprised by how much huskier his voice was.

He said my name to make sure that I was watching him and then he cast another fireball. This one took out a tree. A few druids a few buildings down glared his way, but they didn't shout anything. Instead, they seemed to be hounding another of the shamans, about their spells, no doubt.

"Did you see that?" Well, it had been hard not to, but I managed to keep any sarcasm or impatience from my voice when I told him I had. "They figured out the connection and now…" He blew up another tree.

"Do not make me regret showing you…" Neesera hissed, pinching his arm.

Even as he rolled his eyes, he nearly set some of the fur on his fingers on fire and he realized he was still a wolf. With an embarrassed noise that sounded almost like a bark, he shifted back to his scrawny, regular form, his robes drooping around him—he wears them really loose so that he doesn't destroy his clothes when he transforms.

So, I could relay the entire conversation we had about how the shamans had been able to kick butt—I tried to walk and talk so that I could find Greg, but it is not proper conversational etiquette to move and speak at the same time to the draenei, so I had to stop and listen so that Neesera's feelings didn't get hurt…though I did try to get out of there as fast as I could—but then I'd have to remember all of Eric's interruptions that happened about every five seconds as Neesera explained what had happened.

I will say this about Eric, though. It was like he'd been feeling as useless as I had been and that being able to use even one spell—pyroblast, apparently—had really brightened up his day. And it was like he wanted to make sure that _I_  knew he was all badass again. Neesera did snap at him that he was like an attention deprived ravager—whatever that is—and then he just mumbled something about his spells never really working when I was around and him not wanting me to think that he was bad at what he did.

Honestly, I'd never known he cared about what I thought about him…

But anyway. So apparently every world has elemental spirit things. And those are what shamans call upon to get their magic. So the reason that the shamans were all meditating was because they were trying to find the voices for my world's elementals. Neesera was kind of put out as she mentioned something about their voices being drowned out by more than fel magic, but she didn't really say anymore.

Crap. I bet those elementals know about that garbage island in the Pacific. The shamans aren't gonna leave if they find out that the humans of my world are kind of wasteful, are they? And Neesera can't be mad at me. I recycle. Well, I did. Back when we had the bins. That counts for something, right?

Like I was saying though, the shamans found the voices of our elementals and then they were able to use the magic of my world.

I know what you're thinking. What magic? This world doesn't have any magic.

I will quote Neesera for you.

Life  _is_  magic.

And she said that the magic in my world is dormant. Like, she thinks the demons came a really long time ago and sealed away the magic in my world so that we humans would be easier to take down later.

However, now that the shamans have found the sources of the magic, it's awake and regular human people are going to be finding connections to it. So…Greg really could become a warlock or a mage, maybe. If he has an…innate aptitude, I think they called it?

I do not. So I will never be anything other than a rogue, if that.

But! It gets better.

Part of the reason the casters were having such a hard time in my world is because they were calling on magic all the way from Azeroth to use their spells here. So it's like magic gets weaker the further it travels? And my world is pretty far away from Azeroth.

Now that the shamans know how to tailor their spells to work in my world, they can show the other casters how to do so as well. Priests and druids and all of them don't have the same connections to magic, but it's similar enough that they can figure out basic…um…composition changes?

Think like how we learn different languages. It gets easier once you learn how the sentence structure goes, right? I know, I really shouldn't be talking when I can't really speak another language without a spell cast on me, but still. Like, once you know that the verb is at the end of the sentence instead of in the beginning—or whatever—then you can translate it better and even make your own sentences.

I don't really know if I'm making any sense, but I think that's the rough equivalent to what's going on with all the spell casters right now. Anyway, near the end of the conversation, Neesera finally got tired of Eric's continual comments and he finally picked up on her annoyance, so he dismissed himself to go rewrite his spell book so that he could cast everything here—he was really insistent that we go on another patrol sometime soon so he could show off his different spells…he thought I'd enjoy one called polymorph, though I don't really know what that does.

But yeah. So he wandered off with a bounce in his step.

By that point, people had begun to clean up the damage. A few of the dragons and people with larger flying mounts were carting off the larger pieces of building while some druids still struggled with their spells to reinforce walls where the devastation had been heaviest.

Even as I tried to think of a good way to excuse myself—I was starting to worry of what Nicolas might do to Greg if I took much longer—Neesera abruptly sighed, looking incredibly tired. Even though a single spell didn't take as much out of her now, she'd been casting way, way, way more than she typically did, so it was understandable that she needed to rest. I'd bet she'd be able to sleep for a week if she'd let herself.

However, before I could suggest that and be on my way, she spoke. "Maybe another month from now and those of us who cast more often will be able to use our magic as easily here as in Azeroth." She paused to yawn and then frown, "I am sorry that it took us so long. We should be used to the changes by now."

I stared up at Neesera. She looked apologetic, like it was all her fault. Honestly, I think figuring out how to rework your spells in about a month-month and a half is pretty good. But in that moment, I felt for her. I know how that is, to feel like you're not working fast enough.

So I hugged her. And then I gripped her arms gently. "You guys figured it out just in time, if you ask me, okay?" I nodded firmly and Neesera gave me a gentle smile. "And even though I probably won't understand half of what you say, I totally want you to tell me everything about it, but," I motioned over my shoulder with my head. "There's something I have to take care of first, okay?"

Neesera paused and then her eyes widened as she remembered the message I'd sent her just before hell had literally broken loose. "Your brother!"

I held up my hands, waving them a little frantically. "Don't yell!"

She put a hand over her mouth and nodded quickly. "You say he is here?" She straightened up, towering over me as her eyes scanned the throngs of people near the buildings. "Is he safe? Does he need healing?"

I felt my heart sink a little as I remembered Nicolas making off with him. "Probably." Even as she turned a questioning look toward me, I took in a deep breath and then looked up at her, any earlier excitement fading away. "I think he was the one who brought the demons to us."

 


	42. Betrayal

Nicolas is a bastard.

He's had things figured out for a while. Probably since he first saw Greg. He knew that the man who led the assault on their camp in Zangarmarsh was my brother, but he knew how highly I spoke about Greg, and so he tricked me during the chaos. He pretended to head toward one building and then slunk off to another with my brother.

I…I understand that Greg is an enemy. I do. Really. I understand that he's done a lot of really, really awful things. Things that people have been nice enough not to tell me about.

I admit that I'd been a bit confused about why no one had put together that Greg Ford and Amy Ford were related, but then, there was a Thomas Johnson and an Eriqah Johnson at the base who weren't related at all, so I guess I just thought maybe people thought it was just another coincidence.

It turns out that Nicolas probably talked to them while I was out cold and convinced them that I was a good guy and that there was no need to rant about that evil, dastardly Gregory around me.

…

I'm  _really_  upset.

This whole time I've been thinking that maybe Greg really was a good guy, just he was spying or something. This whole time I've sort of been telling myself that it could be worse. People could talk about him like that do Chris, that weasly, pitiful little sociopath who revered the Legion.

But it turns out that they were just holding their tongues.

You see, apparently Greg is the one who reached out to the demons first. It was following his plans that the base was set up. He wasn't so good with the management end of things, though, which is why Jonathan came into play later. But Greg? He was their hunter. The one who searched for innocent people for the Legion. The one who brought them back to that base and tortured them. The one who…

I can't go on.

At least it wasn't just around me that was kept in the dark. Nobody mentioned anything to Neesera or Maevlen, either. They probably figured that those two wouldn't be able to hide the truth from me. They probably couldn't have.

I wish they'd told me. Or even…if they'd told at least Neesera, then maybe she wouldn't have gone with me looking through the buildings. She wouldn't have been there when we finally found where they were keeping him. I wouldn't have had to watch her make the connection that the man who attacked them was the one she was trying to help me save.

I know he's bad, but the way he was screaming…they're killing him for information.

This is the real reason that I've been kept out of all the talks about how to move forward with plans. This is why I've been treated like I was useless. Maybe they were trying to protect me…or just make sure that if I was really a bad guy, too, that I wouldn't get in their way.

They could have told me.

He was screaming.

I'm never gonna get that sound out of my head.

And when I tried to talk to Nicolas about it, about maybe letting me talk to him instead of hurting him, do you know what he said?

"It's nothing he hasn't done to someone else."

Greg is my brother. He couldn't have hurt people like that. It's not true. He was manipulated or tricked or…it can't be true.

And of course it took me and my stupid, slow self a minute to figure out that it wasn't Nicolas torturing him for information because he was standing in front of me while my brother got his bones broken or whatever it is they're doing to him.

No.

That's Brath.

…

I'm sorry, it's just…I can still hear it in my head.

I want it to stop. I want it to stop.

And I heard him laugh.

Brath is having fun killing my brother, inch by inch.

I keep telling myself he's a dragon, so maybe he doesn't think of things the same way, but…that's my brother. He's killing my brother.

I can't do this anymore. I can't work with these people. I know that Greg is bad, but to go behind my back and…

I can't.

Why couldn't Nicolas have found someone else? He has to know what Brath means to me, so why…?

I'm never forgiving him. I hope he dies. I do. I know Greg is bad, but no one deserves that. No one. The way he was screaming… I wouldn't wish that on the demons.

I keep thinking maybe there's something I can do to break him out. But the way they're watching me…like  _I'm_  the traitor.

Is it so bad that I want to keep my family safe?

I want things to be different. Something, anything.

I can't take this.

I can't…

 


	43. Stark Reality

Did you know that it's really quiet in Moonglade? It's peaceful. Sort of like there's no such thing as a demon.

I, um, I've been fishing. A lot.

You might think that it's a bad pastime when you don't want to think, but really it's pretty good. Because you can just concentrate on the fish in the water and learning when the tug of the line is just it catching on something versus an actual fish.

I throw most of them back. That's why the druids haven't said anything to me, I think. Or maybe they have and I just haven't listened.

Really, I just catch enough to cover the cost of my bed at the inn.

I think they'd let me stay for free, but screw it. I'm not gonna be useless. If I'm gonna be here, I'm gonna earn what I have.

In case you're wondering, I traded my daggers for some money and a fishing pole. They sold pretty well. I think they did, anyway. I got ninety gold? I don't really know if that's a lot, but fishing poles are dirt cheap. As are bags to keep fish in.

Greg's dead.

I don't want to talk about it.

Um, Neesera hung around me like a moth to flame after we found Greg. Not that we ever saw him. Nicolas wouldn't let us.

I guess maybe that's a small miracle. I still hear him when I sleep, so I'd probably be seeing him every time I close my eyes. I mean, I do. I see him glaring at me, holding that orb. But I guess that's better than whatever he looked like in his final moments.

Nicolas was the one who came to tell me that my brother was dead. Like it was some moral obligation. Or maybe he just wanted to make sure he was the one who broke my heart. I don't know.

It didn't take much to get Neesera to leave me alone after that, though. I was kind of surprised. I just said I needed to go for a walk. How simple is that?

I wandered around and it could have been days and I wouldn't have noticed. It was probably just an hour or so. But I came across two druids who were arguing about who had to go take a message back home because both wanted to stay and work on the stupid trees that Eric had blown up. I don't remember asking them about what was going on. I don't really remember much. There's a vague, blurry image of them handing me a note and then them having to rewrite some spell so that I could take a portal sort of thing to Moonglade.

I'm not really sure how long ago that was. You can't see the sky through the canopy overhead and even if I could, I haven't been counting the days. I'm not on a regular sleep schedule, either. I just go and pass out when I'm too tired to fish.

I don't know if anybody knows where I am, either. Maybe they think I was killed. Maybe they think I ran off to tell my secret demon overlords of my brother's fate, since apparently sharing blood with him makes me a suspect despite traveling worlds to save mine.

I don't…I don't really care what anyone thinks.

Earth's gonna be saved, so they don't need someone who can barely hold their daggers.

I know what you may be thinking. Enough of the pity party, Amy. Bad things have been happening to everybody.

Well, fuck you.

I can still hear him screaming in my head. I've taken to humming to drown it out. I'm pretty off key, but the druids don't say anything. They tried to talk to me once or twice when I first got here after I handed off the note, but I just ignored them.

Now they leave me alone. Except for the innkeeper who thanks me for the fish every day, like I'm gonna stop bringing them in if he skips a single nicety.

Sometimes I just wanna scream that I'm tired of people being nice. I'm tired of being coddled or treated like some fragile thing that has to be kept in the dark. I just…

If I hadn't found where they were keeping Greg, if I hadn't seen that he was there, I don't think they'd have ever told me they caught him. They might have told me he was dead, sure, but they would have left everything about how he died a mystery.

I'd say that I hope they got something useful out of it, but it doesn't matter.

I don't want to see Brath again. I don't care if it was in his nature, if he was forced into doing what he did, or what. He knew I loved my brother. He knew that I looked up to him.

If someone had to do what they did, it should have been a stranger. Someone who didn't know how much it would hurt me.

I know that Greg was a villain, I do. If it'd been anyone else with his track record and I'd heard them screaming, I would have been sick, but I wouldn't have tried to stop it. I would have seen it as necessary for saving my world. And even if they didn't get anything useful out of them, a little part of me would have thought it was retribution for what the bastard did.

But it wasn't anybody else. It was Greg.

It was the guy who, when I was twelve, stood up for me against a bully, even though he got his butt kicked. It was the guy who, when that didn't stop the bullying, stood up for me again and had a fake tooth to show for it.

It was the guy who would roll his eyes when I skyped him with questions about my algebra homework and ask me how I was going to survive the real world without him as he helped me solve it.

The guy who would hug me when we were home alone and I was scared by the thunder.

A lot of older brothers are kind of jerks and I guess he was sometimes, but he never forbid me from going into his tree house or refused to come pick me up from a party that I realized I didn't want to be at.

I don't understand what happened to him. What made him turn toward the demons? Was it always there and I just didn't see it?

He used to say that he liked playing WoW because he liked the idea of saving something. Be it a world or a person. So…why?

Any chance I had at getting an answer is gone.

But…enough of that.

I think I just caught another fish. I'm getting pretty good at it.

It's hard to believe I was dreading this back when I saw that first window's images.

Honestly, what I feared most  _did_  happen. I did lose my world.

And I just don't feel like fighting anymore.

…

You believe me, don't you? You can watch me wander listlessly through life and accept that I'm a shell of a person and you can look into my eyes and see that I'm lost. That I had to let the only family I had left die.

That there's  _nothing_  left for me.

…

Good.

I tell myself how lonely I am every day so that anyone who sees me will believe it. I tell myself all those things and sometimes I even almost believe them myself. Nicolas can read a lie on the most skillfully deceptive person and he never trusted me, so I need to be borderline lost to my story. Maybe he'll always keep tabs on me. That's fine. He can watch me all he wants, but he's never going to find Greg.

After all, Nicolas knows that Greg isn't really dead, because he's the one who found the room empty.

The real reason he came in person to lie to me was to read my expression, because I'm an open book, remember? He wanted to make sure that I hadn't had anything to do with the escape and to make sure, if I was innocent, that I wouldn't go looking for Greg or get in anyone's way.

Well, I think I'm about as out of the way as I'm going to get.

The best lies are mixed with the truth, or so I've been told. And so here are my truths.

My world  _doesn't_  need me anymore, so I don't have to stay on the frontlines and goad heroes into saving the world. I can disappear and it won't ruin anyone's chances.

I don't know if I can face Brath again, because that would mean going back to my world. He can't come home because of the old gods. And even if he could, he's finally coming to a place where he has a chance to be good. I don't want to drag him back down the rabbit hole.

Though that might just be because I don't want to face the worst of my truths.

My brother is a damned sociopath. Like, a legit one. He had everyone fooled. He framed kids in high school he didn't like and he probably killed people before the Legion came. But he could read people like you wouldn't believe. He kept me close enough that I could vouch for him if he needed and then he turned around and wreaked havoc.

This hell on earth is his heaven.

It makes me sick. I'm related to that.

And I unleashed him back into the world.

But then, I had to get my answers. I had to know why he sent that email, why he would turn to the Legion. The email, it turns out, was for appearances sake. He didn't know how well the demons would fare against our nukes and technology and he didn't want to jump onto the losing side, so he rode the fence, sending out information in the beginning, even as he looked for ways to contact and join the monsters destroying our world.

Something about what he said before he disappeared in to the wrecked city…I almost think he was somehow the person who brought our world to the demons' attention.

I don't think his influence is really that powerful, but…I can't help but wonder what made them come to us. It couldn't have been him, could it?

Of all the things I've been torn up about doing throughout my travels, I never imagined saving my brother would be the worst thing I'd ever do.

I think I'd have to really, truly  _try_  to be evil to trump it, because I did know about the things he'd done when I helped him escape. I just didn't realize  _why_  he'd done them. I was so dumb. I was still telling myself that maybe he was just deep under cover. That he had to prove himself to the demons so that he could get into some inner circle and get information. A part of me wants to still believe that, but then…

The Greg I knew and grew up with doesn't really exist. It's like he's dead so it's easy to pretend. And I  _do_  feel numb, even if it's for my own actions in aiding an enemy than in the fact that he was supposedly killed.

So I don't exactly lie. I just tell myself the story the way I wish it had happened. The way Nicolas said it happened. And I let people read how numb I feel and translate it into that story, instead of telling them the truth.

Everyone's lost someone, so they project what they feel and they leave me to mourn.

Emotional projection. That's the last thing Greg taught me. People look for connections in others and if you can figure out which one they're looking for, a simple turn of the head or smile or downcast eyes can confirm their suspicions. Once you have their sympathy or empathy, you have  _them_.

Eventually, someone's gonna come talk to me. Someone's going to either figure out that I  _did_  have something to do with freeing Greg, or they'll decide that I mourned long enough and try to shake me out of this awful place. In one scenario, I'm a traitor, in another, I keep lying.

I don't know which is worse.

Honestly, I need to be alone right now. Because a part of me wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I hadn't saved Greg, but another part of me can't live with the fact that I did.

Maybe Nicolas was right about me. Maybe he saw a darkness in me that even I hadn't found yet.

What's that saying….? Time will tell.

 


	44. Perspective

Hell has officially frozen over.

I hugged Nicolas today.

I mean, he's still such a jerk and I still can't stand him, but…

Let me back up.

What's that saying? The only thing that stays the same is that everything changes?

I'd been fishing for a few hours on my nth day in Moonglade when I heard a soft rustle of the grass behind me. It was too heavy a sound to be the occasional deer or rabbit. The wildlife here may have been used to the druids, but when I first came, nothing would come near me. It sort of fueled my 'I'm really evil and never realized it' notion for a while. Slowly though, the rabbits and whatnot took to grazing nearby. They don't let me touch them—they  _are_  wild—but they don't mind my presence anymore. I can't tell you how much better that made me feel. I mean, animals can sense bad stuff, or something like that. Maybe. I think.

Anyway, so I've gotten used to the quiet sounds a forest makes, the way the boughs move in the wind, the way bugs make little chirpy noises, the way animals graze. I get why the night elves and other druids love it so much here. It's really calming.

Anyway, I knew the sound was too heavy to be an animal and it was also too heavy to be one of the barefooted elves. That left person, be it stranger or not.

I didn't bother to look because I figured they'd make themselves known soon enough, be it with a word or a blade. I suppose I'm lucky that it was with a word, huh?

Or rather, a question.

"Mind if I join you?"

I watched my bobber as it rested lazily on the lake's surface and shrugged. I knew the voice. It was one I'd sort of prayed I'd never hear again. So much for the power of prayer. I ignored the voice, hoping that maybe I'd just lost my mind and perhaps no one was really there after all.

It was another moment full of rustling cloth and crinkling leather before I saw a pair of human feet slip into the water beside me and then a line whooshed through the air and a second fishing bobber joined mine.

I kept my gaze straight ahead, occasionally tugging the line as I waited for a fish to bite.

"There were three search parties for you before those druids realized you were the one who'd taken their message."

I kept my gaze on the water. At a glance, the surface looked still, but I'd learned where to look to see the occasional blip from a fish coming up for air or where most of the water bugs skittered around near the more shaded parts of the bank.

"I came by before, but Dargon told me that you weren't well enough for visitors."

I tried to match the name to a face, but I couldn't remember him.

"He's the elf you give fish to every day." When I didn't respond, I heard a sigh. "Amy, I know what you did."

I closed my eyes slowly and took in a breath before turning to look at Nicolas. I'd rather expected to see him with one of his unreadable expressions, but instead, his guard was down. He looked exasperated…and maybe a little disappointed. Or maybe that was just in my mind.

Frowning, I turned my attention back to my bobber. "Just what did I do?"

Silence settled back over us and for a moment I wondered if perhaps I ought to act indignant or something, but then, I'm supposed to think Greg is dead, right? So I wouldn't know to be offended that Nicolas was implying I'd helped him escape.

However, even as I wondered if there was a way to tell him off without confirming his suspicions, he leaned against his knees, chin cupped in one hand as the other let his fishing pole dip down into the water.

"When I was a child, my family was killed by orcs," he began suddenly in a calm voice. The break in the silence startled me so that I nearly dropped my fishing pole, but he ignored me and kept talking. "I had to steal to survive and eventually I was caught by the guard. I was certain that they were going to ship me off somewhere horrible, but instead, they handed me over to the SI," I had no clue what that was, but somehow it didn't seem appropriate to interrupt him, "and they began my formal training to be a rogue."

He straightened up and stretched his shoulders slowly. "When I was fifteen, I was given my first mark." His voice faded away and for a second I thought that maybe the trip down memory lane had ended. After all, this was Nicolas. I didn't really want to be talking to him and I didn't see a point in listening to some childhood story. However, when I looked at him, I could see this echo of an emotion in his eyes and it dawned on me that he was gathering the strength to even tell me this.

"Prior to then, I'd just slipped into houses, gathered documents for my superiors, eavesdropped on important meetings, that sort of thing. I'd thought that was all it meant to be a rogue and I was happy to have found my calling." He leaned against his knees again. "And then I got my mark."

"It was an important one. She was working with VanCleef and the Defias and my superiors told me it was crucial that the information she was carrying be intercepted. And I was to leave no trace of it. I didn't even realize what they were telling me to do until they said to make it look like an accident." Nicolas' lips twitched as though to force a smile, though he seemed to realize what he was doing and just let his face fall back into a frown.

I couldn't stand it. "Just because you can kill someone doesn't mean everyone can—"

"I never killed her," He interrupted my all but direct confession. Regardless that it must have confirmed his beliefs, it didn't even register to me that I'd just condemned myself. However, instead of holding it over me or even slitting my throat for my betrayal, he simply shook his head. "No, I didn't think that taking a life would be right. So I didn't kill her. I burned her house down with every scrap of paper I'd found in it, even though none of them had been particularly damning." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I saw her watching her house fall in on itself, but decided I'd done a good job. That she would think twice about turning her back on the crown again." He hesitated, head bent down. "It wasn't until I reported back to my superiors that I learned the information I was to destroy wasn't on a piece of parchment, but in her head."

I fish mouthed, not knowing what to say. I mean, for a breath, I even forgot it was Nicolas I was talking to. I felt bad for him.

I guess the silence was too much for him, because he abruptly gave me an annoyed look. "My point is that people died because I didn't do my job and let her relay that information. Innocent people died because of  _me_." He straightened up in his seat and motioned toward me. "And now innocent people are going to die because of you."

I felt a knot form in my stomach as I clenched my teeth. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Nothing, would have been ideal," Nicolas muttered. "However, I'm not here to damn you. I'm here to make sure you understand for the future: every action has a consequence. You should make sure you can live with what comes from what you do."

Damn him and his logic. What did he think I'd been beating myself up over since I'd come out here? Did he think I didn't care about the people I'd endangered? I glared out at my bobber, suddenly wishing that I were anywhere else. It would figure he'd come to ruin my haven. "I didn't think he could really be that bad of a person."

"I didn't think she could have been, either," Nicolas said softly and I hated that we had such a clear parallel in lapses of judgment.

"But he was my brother and—"

"And if you saw him again," Nicolas held up a hand as I tried to protest that I wouldn't. "I'm not asking that you be the one who lands the killing blow, but would you at least stand back and let others do what needs to be done? Let me do what needs to be done?"

I swallowed slowly. I didn't know what to say. I mean, I knew what I should say: Yes. But then, I can't get all the times we shared together as a kid out of my head. He may be horrible, but somehow, he'll still always be my Greg.

"If we find him again, don't tell me, okay?" I finally whispered.

Nicolas reached out and tousled my hair. "I don't plan to."

So, okay. I know that everyone has their own story. What's that saying? …I know I've been relying on those a lot lately—at least, it seems like a lot—but, I don't know, maybe it's my way of clinging to my culture. Anyway, I heard somewhere that everyone is their own main character. I'm not sure why, but as I was sitting there, getting lectured by Azeroth's greatest rogue, it occurred to me that I'm just a side character in a lot of people's stories. Like as awful as I may think some things I've done are—and some of them really may be awful—they're not as important or they don't have as much of an impact as I thought they would. Like, I was sure that everyone would hate me for helping Greg and that I'd never be able to face any of them again. Yet here was Nicolas…

I guess, what I'm trying to say is that I realized that Nicolas wasn't just some annoyance. He was his own man. I was probably little more than a pest to him, too, yet instead of squashing me, as I'm pretty sure he originally intended to, he was offering me comfort. That I wasn't the only one to screw stuff up from time to time.

I don't know if I'm making a lot of sense, but even as I tried to understand it all myself, he reached out and jerked my fishing pole out of my hands. "You're gonna lose your damned pole." Something was jerking against the line pretty hard and I realized that if he hadn't grabbed it when he did, my fishing pole would've shot out of my hands and into the depths. Not that it would have taken much to replace, but I think he was looking for a way out of the awkwardness that had settled over us.

He twisted the pole once to the side and reeled in a fish that I'd never seen before. I'd thought my foot long trout were pretty awesome, but it turns out I was just catching the runts or whatever. As he handed back my fishing pole, he held up the fish, rising to his feet and trotting back a few yards to where he'd left his bags. "Now then, let's swing by the inn to gather your belongings and we'll head back to New York."

Was he serious?

I stared at his back. He was in a loose shirt—apparently he hadn't bothered with armor to come fetch me. Or maybe he just needed a break from having to walk in all that heavy gear? It was sleeveless and I could see his muscles under his skin, moving with a certain grace as he rustled through his pack and pulled out a small knife to gut the fish.

I kind of abruptly realized that he was handsome.

It wasn't like I wanted to jump his bones or anything, but…I don't know. Before that, I'd been too busy hating him to really  _see_  him.

Before either of us knew what was happening, I'd strode after him, my toes leaving water droplets on the grass, and I hugged him. I think he was surprised, but he just patted my head and then told me that I was lucky he hadn't instinctively knifed me. Even though his comment was no less snarky than usual, it had a strange comfort to it.

When I let him go, though, I was worried. "Would it really be smart for me to go back?"

He let out a half laugh. However, when he realized I was serious, he arched an eyebrow. "You may still need to work on your grip on your weapons and you may need to learn to lie better and move faster," for once I didn't take his words as needless cruelty and I listened as he continued, "but you do realize how important you are to your world, don't you? You're the girl who crossed dimensions to save it. Even if you never down another demon in your life, just standing on the frontlines is an incredible boost for morale. Just knowing that you are still out there, fighting the good fight, inspires others from your world." He hesitated for a moment and then shook his head. "It's a pity you have such a spot light upon you. You might have made a decent rogue someday."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."

However, even as he ordered me off to get my things—which was still annoying, but somehow not nearly as much as it would have been, even ten minutes before—he called after me. "Even if you weren't an icon for your people, I'd still have come to get you."

When I paused, genuinely surprised, he gave me a half grin. "If someone doesn't bring you back soon, that dragon of yours is going to tear your world apart before the demons can."


	45. Changes

So, a few things.

It turns out that Nicolas hadn't come alone. He'd brought Eric with him, who was ecstatic to see me, by the way. When he saw I was with Nicolas, his face just lit up and he wrapped me in this bear hug and said it would be okay because all of them had lost someone.

That was when it occurred to me: Nicolas hasn't told anyone else that I was the reason Greg escaped. Though, and I don't mean to sound paranoid, but I think he wanted Greg to get away. I don't know why, but once again I am falling into someone else's master web.

Well, you know what? Whatever. It's kind of scary, but I think that I trust Nicolas. Like, whatever he has planned, it needs to happen to save my world or something. I don't know why Greg escaping would do that—I'm choosing to ignore that little voice in the back of my head that still whispers, 'Maybe Greg's a good guy after all,' and just assume that it's some dastardly rogue plot that will make the world safe again.

Anyway, I like Eric. He's always so nice to me. Ever since the beginning.

When he greeted me, I realized that he didn't know about Greg and so I kind of hung back when he made his portal, hoping I could get a chance to talk to Nicolas real quick and confirm my new suspicions.

However, Nicolas chose to ignore the fact that I wanted him to slow down and just trotted through the portal. That jerk.

Was he gonna hold this over my head? Was the whole nice act routine was just to get me to condemn myself after all?

I was worried and I guess I wore it on my sleeve, because Eric looped an arm around my shoulders as he nodded reassuringly and told me the portal would work for me now.

And it did. Though by the time we walked through it, Nicolas had disappeared into the base. I mean, he was only a few seconds ahead of us but…I dunno if he crawled through a window somewhere or what, but he was just gone, so there was no talking to him about my new concerns.

I have to admit though, that didn't stay in my mind for long. You see, things have changed.

It turns out that I was in Moonglade for almost two months—who'd have thought?—and in that time, they've really fortified the base. It's expanded to about eighteen blocks, though there's more constant fighting on the fringes now. You can hear the demons roaring in the distance and the clash of weapons and the whir of magic through the air. All of the trees reinforcing the buildings are practically immortal. Like, you can't cut them, burn them, anything. Now that the druids are working with my world's magic, they're kicking butt.

Oh, and the building the portal is in is gone. Well, kind of. They leveled it, but not really. What they did was grow one of those trees so that it's branches caught all the debris that had once been the first and second floors and then grew it until it's one of the tallest places in the base. And it's mostly hollow, so now it's like a giant hotel's foyer when you step through the portal. And they set up portals to other areas, though there are always mages nearby to close them, should the demons do some great push and retake the area. After all, we don't want our enemies using what we've worked so hard to make.

And there are a lot more people.

Azerothians, yes, but more than that, there's people from my world. Like, there's this one guy from Russia who helps guard the portals. He's this huge dude, like someone you'd expect to see in the movies who can just shoulder a Gatling gun and make the earth shake when he walks. I mean, he's gotta be able to bench press…I don't know what's a lot for that. But like a lot a lot.

Anyway, get this, he's a mage. Yeah. All that muscle and he stands in the back casting frost magic.

Well, I'd understood that maybe people from my world would get magic now, like Neesera said, but I never thought they'd be good at it. I mean, not so quickly. But this guy…he's right up there with Fizz and Maevlen and Eric. I haven't caught his name yet.

But anyway, there are more people like him, from all over the world. I guess now that there are portals up to different parts of the world, different people are just traveling all over, looking for demons to fight, to get revenge for all that they've lost.

As we walked through the streets, I started picking up on something else, too. You know how the Horde and Alliance in Booty Bay wouldn't associate with each other? I guess I'd kind of figured that people from my world would end up doing that, too, but…

Maybe I'm not making sense, and maybe if we do defeat the Legion, things will go back to the way they were again, but right now people from all different countries are fighting together. Different cultures, different religions, everything.

It's sort of like the end of the world saved us.

I'm not saying cultures are being discarded or anything, either. It's just, not as important who hails what flag or prays to what god or the color of someone's skin when you consider that we're all fighting for our home. And instead of just being blinded by hatred, people are  _talking_. Seeing past their differences to see that we're all human.

Well, except for most of the Azerothians, but I mean people from my world.

Like I said, I don't know if this will last should the fighting stop, but right now, it's almost like the world's more at peace than it ever was, because right now everyone's just seeing the one enemy.

Oh.

I almost forgot: we can see the sky.

The clouds have receded over the area of our base. I guess it's due to some sort of purification that the healers have been doing.

And that's why the demons are attacking so much more frequently. They're frantic that they're gonna lose this world.

I thought that was pretty awesome, but Eric says that means that someone named Kil'jaeden will probably be visiting our world soon, if he's not already here. He was repelled from Azeroth, but even their great heroes weren't able to kill him. And worse, if we do manage to beat him, then there's this other guy called Sargeras…? Or something.

Anyway, we're not out of the demonic woods yet.

Well, when we got back to the hotel—which has had a few levels added to it via trees and those rooms look pretty cool, I gotta say—Eric was called away to help with something. He promised he'd be back as soon as he could and he'd fill me in on everything if no one else got the chance to beat him to it.

So nice.

I wandered up to my room and Fizz was there! We hugged and would have probably spent all day talking and catching up, but, you know, I wanted to find Brath. Secretly, I was kind of hurt he hadn't been waiting for me.

I mean, you might think that I'd be mad that he tortured Greg—for a while I was—but… Even without the voices in his head, he's still a little—well more than a little—bad. It turns out he volunteered to torture Greg, telling Nicolas it was to prove his loyalty when really he was doing it to make sure that I'd be able to get to Greg to help him later.

I've said it before and will say it over and over: Dragons are way smarter than people.

Without him, Greg really would be dead. Personal feelings aside, that probably would have been better, but…meh. I'm glad he helped me save Greg, even if it was through a rather twisted method.

In case you're wondering, Brath had gotten Nicolas to 'trust' him through the information he got form torturing a few other people apparently and so when Greg's turn came up, Nicolas trusted him to not need a baby sitter.

Well, that's what we'd thought when we'd saved Greg, back before I found out he was evil and I ran off to try to hide my guilt. Now, like I said, I think this is some plan, but I don't know what the end game is. And I kinda wonder if Brath was in on it from the beginning, letting me think I was coming up with stuff on my own when really I was following someone else's breadcrumbs.

So I wanted to talk to Brath. For that and because I just…missed him. God, why are all the guys in my life horrible people? And why do I love them regardless?

…

I suppose I could try to rephrase that, but who am I kidding? I can deny things all I want, but I'm in love with Brath.

I was able to listen to Fizz's stories about Egypt—on a side note, he says that a lot of the places in my world echo certain cultures in his world and he thought that was pretty interesting…I do, too, actually—and a few other places before I was too distracted and politely interrupted.

When I asked where I could find my dragon, Fizz seemed puzzled at first. He cocked his head and his giant ears bobbed slightly from the motion. Then he motioned toward the direction the portal tree was. "I just figured he'd already said his hellos or somethin'." He trailed off for a moment, straightening his head as one of his eyebrows quirked. "He didn't meet ya?"

"No…"

"Huh," Fizz frowned, his lips dipping down and accenting his sharp little teeth as he spoke again. "Odd. He's been threatenin' to burn this place to the ground if someone didn't find ya and bring ya back."

I felt a knot in my stomach. What if something had happened to him? Did he go back to Azeroth to find me and get repossessed or whatever by the old gods? Had he been captured by demons?

It was apparent that something had happened and before I could even start freaking out properly, Fizz patted my hand and pointed up. "Try the roof, yeah? A lot of the dragons hang out up there and even if ya don't find him, maybe another one knows where he is?"

Well, I bolted. I think I called out something about talking later over my shoulder as I booked it up the steps, but maybe not. Hopefully Fizz will forgive me later, if I didn't.

Anyway, I wound my way up and up and up, all the while different thoughts racing through my head. What if he wasn't there when I got up to the roof? Was he lying somewhere further in the city, hurt and dying? Would I never get to say goodbye?

And what if he was there? What would I say? He's always been such a tease, but…

I can't tell you all the different scenarios that scuttled through my head. I think I was all but convinced that Brath had been abducted by demons by the time I finally stepped out onto the sunny roof and looked around.

While yes, I was thinking of different possibilities, I'd been sort of hoping that, well, that he'd be there.

I felt crushed for a moment before I heard a soft rustling of wings behind me and a voice.

"Amy?"

I whirled around all hopeful before I realized that it wasn't Brath's voice, but Derres'. He was in his elven form as he walked over to me, with another creature who was likely a dragon in mortal guise. This one looked like another elf, though her hair was a soft blue. She gave me a brilliant smile as Derres whispered something to her and gave me an elegant bow.

"Miss Ford, a pleasure to meet you."

I managed a short nod as my gaze focused on Derres and he seemed to sense my urgency and let the rest of our introductions slip as he looked down at me. "What's the matter?"

"Have you seen Brath? Is he okay?"

"Brath?" The woman blinked, confused.

"Brathrion," Derres murmured, his mouth forming a thin line.

However, even as I tried to read into his expression, the female dragon clapped her hands together, a look of recognition settling on her features. "Oh. You mean Zaercia's mate?"

 


	46. A Complication or Two

I have to say, the whole 'mate thing' really threw me for a loop. I had to ask Derres to repeat himself. Like five times.

And then he said some other stuff, but I wasn't really listening. Part of what I did catch was something like that dragons weren't monogamists and something about continuation of a species and Brath is an asshole anyway and…yeah.

I think most of his speech was actually that last part, but I was more in shock than paying attention to all the words being thrown at me.

Finally, I just couldn't take it anymore, so I asked him to let Brath know I was back whenever he saw him—I wasn't sure  _I_  wanted to see him anymore, but that was beside the point—and I headed back down stairs, in a sort of daze. I mean, I was so looking forward to seeing Brath, you know? And Nicolas had said all that stuff about how Brath was gonna burn up my world if he didn't see me again and whatnot and I know that's not the most romantic stuff a guy could have relayed to you—actually it's kind of serial killer-ish—but still, there's an oddly sweet…undertone, I guess? I really am a bad person.

But now, when I see him, am I just gonna get the 'you're a nice girl' talk? Or worse, is he gonna pull the polygamy thing and ask me to stay on as his sordid lover?

After all, I guess I can understand that different cultures have different ways and stuff, but…I don't know. I guess I always sort of expected my life would involve living happily ever after with  _one_  guy who didn't have other wives/lovers/girlfriends/'consorts', as Derres put it. I mean, having multiple lovers is just begging for jealousy issues.

Look at me, for example. I already loathe this Zaercia person and I've never even met her. She could be a saint…though, the way people talk about black dragons, it seems less than likely. …Am I being racist toward dragons now?

….No, because all the black dragons are crazy, right? And you can't be a saint if you have all those voices whispering in your head…though I guess that would give them more stuff to bond over.

Ugh.

But that's not the point. It's just…I guess it's good that I found out now before I did something like sleep with him? Because I'm not gonna share my man…and so if that means I have to end it with Brath, then…it's better to find this stuff out before we have little half-breed abomination things on the way.

I shouldn't call them that.

But holy crap, can dragons and humans even have children? I mean, I do want them at some point…not that I'd want to bring kids into the world as it is  _now_ , but maybe in a few years when things are getting better…and I'm old enough to buy alcohol… I wonder if that law's still in place.

Yeah.

Like I said, the whole Brath issue was practically causing me a meltdown, though I suppose it's better than the reasons for my previous meltdowns.

It's actually kind of nice to be so wound up over drama instead of death, destruction, maiming, and chaos.

Though…is that what my life would always be like, if I stayed with Brath?

I thought about going back to my room and talking more with Fizz, but I wasn't really in the listening mood, you know? I mean, Brath and I have been flirting and we've kissed a couple times and stuff and I never really thought to ask if he had someone else in his life.

The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. He's such a tease and since the beginning he was pretty much using me to some end, right? So of course one of the easiest ways that heroes or heroines—not that Brath is one—get what they want from others is through sex appeal. You make someone feel special and of course they're gonna help you with stuff. Because they feel like they're important to you and wanna stay that way.

Dear God, this is Greg all over again. I thought most people are supposed to look for traits their parents had—which creeps me out, by the way—not siblings. What if I have one of those complexes? I don't know what the brother one would be called.

And just ew.

Well, since my mind had wandered to Greg, I remembered that Nicolas hadn't told anyone else that he was still alive. It occurred to me that maybe some answers would help me get over the whole Brath thing—or at least make things better until I could talk to him myself—and so I headed over to see Nicolas.

I didn't even know if he'd be in his room and as I walked, I realized that I didn't actually know which room in the inn was Nicolas'. I mean, he's a rogue and all, but surely he has to have a room. But I'd never really paid attention, so I had no clue where it was.

So I went to ask Clara, hoping that she'd be kind of busy and not be able to talk for long, but still have time to answer my question. I'm so antisocial. Like, I have all these friends, yet I don't want to talk to any of them. It's not that I don't care, I just… I'm just stressed out and stuff.

That's not bad, right? Everybody has days where they don't want to talk to people.

Well.

I was still kind of in my own little zone when I went to visit Clara and I just opened the door. As my foot caught on something right near the doorway, I saw a bare butt and a sharp pelvic thrust before I realized that I didn't have to ask where Nicolas was because I'd found him.

Let's just say that he and Clara were a bit preoccupied.

I don't remember if I apologized as I ran away, but at least I had enough presence of mind to close the door. Though…I sort of took Nicolas' boxers with me, seeing as those were what caught on my shoe.

Ew.

Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew.

This is just not my day. At all.

And I don't know how I'm ever gonna be able to look either Nicolas or Clara in the eyes again without my cheeks going as red as my hair—that color is still going strong, by the way. I mean, I know sex is natural, but that doesn't mean that I want to see other people doing it…especially Nicolas.

Though he does have a really toned back…

But ew. It's  _Nicolas_. I will never get that image out of my head.

So, I kind of totally left his boxers in the hall outside Clara's door because I didn't want to touch them and I definitely didn't want to just leave them on my shoe—can you imagine having to explain that to Neesera or someone?—and I didn't want to open the door again on them…

Well, I went back to my room and I sure as heck knocked before going in. Fizz looked at me kind of funny when I came back in, but I guess the stricken look on my face convinced him not to ask.

So, we ended up talking after all and I actually welcomed it because the more he talked about the deserts and stuff of Egypt and a few other places he'd been, the more I was able to think about stuff other than naked men who I hate and how the guy I'm in love with apparently has someone else in his life.

Oh, and things got a bit better. Neesera and Maevlen came back from a scouting mission with Cisty in tow.

Not that I didn't like Fizz's stories, it's just more people equals more distractions, right?

So we all stayed up really late talking about what was going on in my world. I didn't have much to contribute since I'd been gone for so long, but I was happy with what I was hearing. In retrospect, I think they were trying to make me feel better, since as far as any of them knew, I was still grieving the death of my evil brother.

A little after midnight, there was a knock on the door and my heart was all aflutter—ridiculous, I know—thinking it might be Brath, yet at the same time my stomach was in knots if it was Clara or Nicolas—surely they're done by now…maybe they're just pretending it didn't happen though? I'm cool with that.

Well, it wasn't any of them, so my panic and anxiety and all that were for naught.

It was Eric.

It was actually kind of funny; Cisty teased him that he shouldn't crash a party without bringing anything and he out of nowhere conjures these little cookies and water. I guess that's a typical mage spell? Like the mush muffins I never got to eat that Fizz had sent with me waaaaay back when I'd headed to Stormwind?

Fizz was definitely rolling his eyes and Cisty declared that mages were cheap, but Neesera and I were all giggles, so I guess what he was going for worked.

They were really good cookies, by the way. I guess they'd be sugar cookies? I asked all the guys—since they were all mages—how that worked and Eric immediately launched into this explanation that just shot over my head. Fizz interrupted him though with a clap of his hands and then looked at me with his little red eyes and I saw a hint of annoyance in them as he smiled at me and said, "It's the same concept as makin' a bolt of fire appear, just with food. Since it's magical, ya don't wanna try to live off it, since it doesn't have all the nutrients and whatnot, but it's good enough when ya in a pinch—"

"Or at a party," Neesera teased.

"Yeah… S'pose it ain't a real party until we break out the booze, though," Cisty cackled and then looked up expectantly at Eric. "Don't suppose you can conjure any of that, hmm?"

Eric put his hands against his chest, fingers splayed. "You can't expect me to bring everything."

"Ya didn't  _bring_  anything," Fizz muttered.

However, even as Eric gave Fizz a questioning look that he tried to mask so that I wouldn't notice—I feel so roguish for seeing it—Cisty smacked her knees and hopped to her feet.

"I can solve this problem. That is…so long as you don't mind Hendric crashing our little get together."

I had no clue who Hendric was, but at this point, I was more curious about what was going on between Fizz and Eric to care if one or two or fifty more people came to hang out. Okay, maybe fifty wouldn't even fit in our room, but still. You get my point.

So Cisty darted off down the hall and the rest of us fell into talking about little things while we waited for her to come back with beer.

And, oh my god, it was like I was in high school all over again, at one of Bethany's parties. I mean, okay, yeah, people won't sell me alcohol because I totally look my age, but that doesn't mean they don't sell it to my friends. Glazing over the fact that I'll probably never see any of those friends again because I am determined not to be completely depressed, I had to wonder what exactly Cisty was gonna bring back. I admit, I'm not a huge drinker—and what little I tasted of Azeroth's stuff was definitely  _way_  stronger than anything I'd ever had here—but I can hold a drink or two.

And these guys didn't seem like the kind who would try to get me blitzed for no apparent reason, so the whole get together felt really…comfortable. Almost like something normal I'd have been doing.

That's when it occurred to me that it's coming around time I would have been graduating, since I was senior. And then I'd have been going off to college to have nights like this with dormmates and stuff.

But you know what? It's like I said before, I'm not the top of my class. And nothing ever really appealed to me, profession wise. I'd never been able to figure out what I wanted to do with my life and suddenly the thought of going to college seemed so pointless and I was almost glad that it had never happened.

I could see myself sitting in broken cities or wherever with this lot, fighting beside them when necessary, for the rest of my life. And if this was my lifestyle of choice, who's to say things couldn't work out between me and Brath? Maybe Derres is wrong about Zaercia. Maybe they're siblings or something and Derres just misinterpreted something.

And I want to point out that this line of thought was before I started drinking, okay? So it wasn't like some drunken epiphany. This one was legit.

Anyway, we hadn't been talking long when we heard Cisty call out for some help in the hallway. As Eric jolted to his feet, nearly tripping over his own robe, to help, I saw an opportunity and leaned toward Fizz as the others rushed out to help carry in freakin' kegs—maybe they  _are_  the types to get blitzed for no reason—and whispered, "What's up with you and Eric?"

"Nothin'," Fizz tried to shrug it off, though when he caught my expression he just sighed. "I just think his timin' is poor."

"Timing for what?"

The look Fizz gave me… it was pretty much a 'wait, you don't know? Everyone else does…' sort of look and that had me worried. What was going on? Was something going to happen to Eric? I glanced toward the window, wondering if it was a full moon or something and if that even affected him the way it does werewolves in the movies. Like, was he going to wolf out on us and tear us to shreds?

Surely by now he would have counter measures for that kind of stuff. And honestly, he seems more like a Twilight werewolf, where he can change at will and isn't really that out of control.

I suppose I don't know much about werewolves, though.

Well, anyway, I was curious about what was going to happen to him now, so when he and the others came back in with Hendric—a dwarf warrior with a short beard and quite possibly the most foul mouth I've ever heard—my eyes were pretty much glued on the scrawny little mage.

And I am sorry to say my tact did not improve with alcohol.

Overall, the night was awesome. Like, nothing spectacular happened per se, but I was able to forget about walking in on Nicolas and Clara and even how upset I was about whatever was happening with Brath. We drank, we laughed, we talked about random stuff, not just fighting. I told them about how one of my guy friends had tried to drink a beer underwater in my other friend's pool once and Hendric declared, with all of us as witnesses, that he would master such antics himself one day.

Cisty wasn't overly thrilled that I'd given him the idea, since I guess dwarven memories are really good even when they're drunk and he's got this weird sense of honor where he'll go through with pretty much anything he says.

Oh, side note: if you're the kind of drunk who spills their guts, never drink with a dwarf; they will know all of your secrets. And if you do, just hope they aren't the kind of person to hold it over you.

I didn't get wasted or anything, just a little tipsy, since I was kind of terrified I might blurt out that Greg was still alive if I let myself go too far. And I had a sinking feeling that more than just Hendric would remember a detail like that.

But it was so much fun.

Well, time went by, and Fizz got called off for portal duty—which we all sympathized with him since he pretty much hadn't gotten any sleep before hand and it would be a long shift—and then Neesera and the others passed out. Well, not Hendric. When people started falling asleep, he decided we were lame and headed off down the hall with his beer to find himself another party.

I wasn't really tired yet, so I decided that rather than stay in the room, I'd let everyone sleep and walk around a bit. Well, as I was heading to the door, I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Eric was still up.

Nothing had happened to him yet, and as I told him I was gonna go walk around a bit, it occurred to me that I still didn't know what horrible timing was going on. So I invited him along.

We made it down to the street and were talking about different things—I told him about how I'd first started sneaking around the house when I was ten and Eric was telling me about his first spells. He's like a prodigy. He never said it, but he started casting spells when he was five and I've heard from a few others that generally you're about thirteen when you start showing affinities for magic. So, he was really young, plus, he's only twenty two and in Nicolas' raiding guild. That speaks volumes, right there.

I think we walked around for almost an hour before I started nodding off and Eric suggested we go back since it wouldn't be smart to stay out in the open where demons could attack when we're tired.

It was a good point and I was finally feeling like I could actually sleep—maybe even deep sleep, without any dreams—and so we headed back.

He walked me all the way to my room and as I was opening the door, he said good night. I returned the sentiment, but as I was walking through the door it occurred to me that I still didn't know whatever was supposed to happen, so I stopped and looked back at him. "Eric—"

His fingers brushed against my cheek as he cupped my face and leaned forward, kissing me lightly on the lips. He lingered there for a moment and then pulled away, letting his fingers run through my hair quickly as he whispered another good night and then headed back to his room.

 


	47. How To Tame Your Dragon

Okay, so. Eric is apparently crushing on me.

I have to admit, for the most fleeting moment, I was kind of excited. Not because I had some secret thing for Eric, too, but because I've never had two guys like me at the same time before.

Well, then I remembered what happened when Brath and Fizz fought that one time in the Exodar and since, you know, Eric is a mage, too, it occurred to me that any 'fighting' over me would be really, really bad. For everyone involved.

So that deflated my ego a bit.

And then, of course, I remembered the whole mate thing and got depressed again.

That led to me tracking down Hendric for some more beer.

Don't worry; I drank alone—pathetic, I know—so I didn't spill my big secret.

When I woke up, though? Dear God, I'd have told anyone just about anything to get the jack hammer in my head to go away.

It didn't help that I woke up to yelling.

At first I was all panicky and stuff, because yelling out here generally means something demonic is on the verge of tearing someone in half or melting their face off or something. Well, a quick, terrified glance around the room showed me that almost everyone was gone—on patrols or just to get breakfast, I couldn't say—but at least there were no demons. Just me and my assailant.

Brath.

He was already well into his rant and pacing like a madman, so I had no clue what was going on, or why he was so angry. Or why his anger seemed directed specifically at me, judging from the glares he was giving me.

I couldn't well take part in an argument that I didn't know the subject of, but it occurred to me that I hadn't done anything wrong and he was the one chasing skirts, so I decided to make the argument about something I  _did_  know about.

Granted, this was a hung over fueled lash out, so it was sort of doomed from the get go.

I managed to untangle myself from my bed sheets and realized that somewhere along the night, I'd decided that pants were for losers. It normally would have taken the fight out of me to realize I was in my undies, but like I said, hang over, muddled thoughts, anger.

I stalked up to Brath, who seemed almost incredulous that I knew how to take my clothing off at all and grabbed his arm. I think I'd meant to stop his pacing, but my scantily clad self had already done that, I guess. However, as I grabbed him, he nearly breathed fire on me. No metaphor. There was literally smoke curling out the corner of his mouth.

Again, I didn't care. In my angry stupor, I figured if he did fry me, I'd just add it to his list of douchebaggery.

So I kept my grip firm. After all, I was the one who had the right to be angry. I was the one who'd been told how much he missed me only to find out he'd been…doing whatever he was doing with Zaercia. Well, I mean, I know what 'mating' means. But you know…argh. I was the one who had the right to be angry. "What is your  _problem_?"

Okay, so that came out way meaner than I'd meant it to.

Brath straightened up, and I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. At first, he looked surprised. Then, he narrowed his eyes and his pupils almost disappeared into the color of his eyes, they were so thin. "Weren't you listening?"

"You should make sure the person you're yelling at is awake before you start bitching!"

Fun fact: I'm kind of horrible when I have a hangover.

Brath could have done any number of things, really. He could have blown through the window, turning into his drake form as the debris squished innocent bystanders below. He could have stormed off, incinerating any poor fool who crossed his path. Heck, he could have picked up his bromance with Mr. Blackheart.

Any of that, I would have expected.

However, instead, he stopped and just…calmed down. Then he looked me over with this critical gaze. I was so tired of him analyzing me and being smarter—well, I think really I was just tired of being other people's pawns and of him yelling, but that's beside the point. Even as I was ready to start spouting some half-baked insults that I would have totally regretted later, he crossed his arms and spoke. "You haven't actually slept with Eric, have you?"

Well.

That made my mind go blank.

I mean, what?

Which is, by the way, exactly what I said.

Brath was so calm it was almost eerie. Especially considering he'd nearly torched the room just a few minutes before. He sniffed the air, looking around the room with more care and then he leaned down and sniffed my neck, which made me feel really self conscious that I hadn't taken a shower in a few days—water is sort of a precious commodity, so daily bathing kind of got thrown out the window, by the way—and that I probably smelled like beer. When Brath straightened back up, he tilted his head. "So Eric was in the room, but not you?"

Yeah. That's right, he went there.

That's exactly how he phrased it, too. My cheeks flushed and I just felt all kinds of embarrassed, mainly because I was suddenly picturing Eric naked and that was just a little awkward. I mean, what if he's into doing…you know, in his wolf form? That would be really kinky…

And now I'm imagining a naked werewolf. Bad Amy, bad.

Anyway, I was angry and embarrassed. "You are such a jerk!" I let go of him. It was my turn to pace. "No, I haven't slept with Eric, because unlike  _some_  people, I happen to be loyal!" I whirled around to face him. As I crossed my arms with extra emphasis, I added, "And I'm also monogamous!"

…

The look he gave me as he tilted his head and let this coy little smile play on his lips….it was the sort of expression you get when you watch a puppy try to get out of a big box so that it can snuggle with you and get attention.

He was looking at me like I was his  _freaking_  puppy.

The condescension did not help our situation.

However, again, before I could snap something really hateful and cruel and only half-meant, he reached out and cupped my chin, amusement still making his eyes glitter. "Good to know your monogamous."

I batted his hand away. "Yeah, well. I am." It wasn't fair. He was going to somehow win this, like he always did. And I wasn't the one screwing around with someone else. It fueled my own fire. Even as I spoke, I realized what was really making me angry was the thought of losing Brath. After everything else I've lost, I didn't want to find out that he was gone, too. Or worse, that I'd never really had him. "And where you do get off being mad about Eric when  _you're_  out  _mating_  with this Zaercia chick?"

His humor slipped at the name and it didn't take draconic intelligence to know that he was not fond of this other dragon.

"We should talk," he murmured and then walked over to my bed and sat down, catching my hand as he went past me and dragging me along with him. I stood defiantly in front of him as he patted the spot beside him. After a moment, he sighed and took my other hand, running his thumbs over the smooth skin on the backs of them. It was so….gentle. Not Brath-like at all.

I eyed him suspicously.

"I believe I told you before that my species was being hunted?"

"By Nicolas," I murmured. I was still in a mood for an argument, but something about how abruptly defeated he'd become took the zeal out of it.

"Yes, among others," Brath murmured, a flicker of anger in his eyes. As he looked back up at me, the emotion disappeared behind an expressionless mask. "My flight is nigh extinct," he hesitated for a moment, taking in a slow breath. "That is, save for Wrathion—the devil child as you called him—myself…and Zaercia." His thumbs stopped moving and he tightened his grips on my hands. Not enough to hurt me, but I knew I wouldn't have been able to jerk free, if I'd tried. "Wrathion wants the earthwarders restored because he fears that the Legion will be setting its sights on Azeroth again."

I felt a knot in my stomach as I remembered yesterday's speech from Derres. "So…even though you don't like her—"

"I loathe the wretch," Brath hissed. "She's so…do you know why she's still alive?" He shook his head slowly in disgust. "She wouldn't associate with the rest of us. Somehow, she beat back the voices and maintained her 'integrity'." He spat the last word like it was the most vile thing to ever leave his tongue.

So Zaercia  _is_  a saint. At least that's a…bad thing? Wait, if he considers me a 'good' catch—assumptions were being made for this leap—what sort of monster did he think I was to want me over her?

I didn't realize I'd verbalized my question until he'd released my hands and was doubled over laughing.

"Not a monster, Amy," he whispered, reaching for my hands again. When he caught them, he pulled them back over his shoulders so that I stumbled forward into his lap. He let go of my hands and slipped an arm around my waist as his other hand cupped my cheek and he nuzzled my hair. "Not a monster, but not so self righteous, either." His hand around my waist had slipped up the back of my shirt and I felt my heart thump hectically. "It's just that you allow gray in your world…and I find that I need a lot of gray in mine."

"Oh?" It was all I could say. I was a bit too focused on the warmth of his hand on my back.

"Otherwise, how would I live with all the things I've done in my father's name?"

Huh. Never figured Brath for angsty or regretful. Perhaps that was because the voices were finally out of his head?

We sat there in silence for what damn well could have been forever before I couldn't help myself. If I didn't say something, I was gonna go crazy with these signals on top of what I'd heard. "So…are you or are you not sleeping with Zaercia?" Before he could answer, I blurted out, "Because I can't share you. I won't."

"Sharing implies you have me."

It was so easily the worst thing he could have said. Remember all of  _my_  angst about losing him and all that? His words really struck home, hurting almost as much as if he'd actually slapped me or something. However, even as I snapped my gaze up to his—I'd kind of been avoiding looking him in the eye after I'd landed in his lap—he kissed me.

It wasn't like before. Not like the time he'd just been screwing with me or the time I'd kissed him. There was a neediness to him, if that makes sense? His hand slid way up my shirt as he pulled me closer and my fingers found my way into his hair. The hand he'd hand on my cheek slipped down and gripped one of my thighs and for a moment, everything was so…perfect.

And then I realized something and pulled back.

Some of his hair had fallen over his shoulders and he looked gorgeous…and pretty annoyed. However, even as he leaned toward me to try to kiss me again, I frowned.

"You never answered my question."

Brath moved his hand off my leg to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I didn't think it honestly needed an answer." When I untangled myself from him and crossed my arms he took in a slow breath. "No. I would sooner let Nicolas castrate me with his teeth than ever lay a finger on that presumptuous little bitch."

Okay, one: not a fun image. Two: hostile much?

And at the same time, I suddenly felt sorry for Zaercia. It must suck to be loathed so completely…

I tried not to imagine Nicolas nibbling on Brath as I uncrossed my arms and let my hands rest against Brath's chest. Of course he still had all this clothes on, by the way. What is with that? Why is it always the girl who ends up naked before the guy?

Meh. Whatever, off topic.

I eyed him suspiciously, wondering if he would actually lie about something this important. After all, maybe it's not so important to him, what with dragons having more than one lover at a time and all. "But what about your species?"

"We had a good run," Brath said rather dismissively and then just dropped backwards onto my bed, dragging me on top of him, as his hand was still on my back and all. He arched his eyebrows as he looked up at me. "Besides, if Wrathion wants a flight so badly, he can wait until he's mature and then  _he_  can take the wench's bed."

I wanted to be happy, really, but my hang over was beginning to win some of my attention again and I couldn't help but feel this was too good to be true. "How can you not care about that? They're your species, your family."

Brath smirked. "Someday I'll have to tell you about how I became a mount." When I proved too out of it to make any connections that didn't involve sex, he clarified, "I have…never cared for my brethren, or anyone or thing other than myself, to be truthful. Being made into a mount was my punishment, that one such as myself would have to serve and cater to the interests of others."

"Wow."

He reached up and ran his fingers down the side of my face. "Which is why everything about this…" He motioned back and forth between us, "is so baffling to me."

I really felt like…we were talking. Like, really, talking. And listening to each other. And I just wanted to tell him that I loved him and all that, but before I could, his gaze wandered to the ceiling and he shrugged into my bed covers. "I didn't intend to. I mean, when we met, I figured you were just some other foolish, weak minded…plaything."

I narrowed my eyes, trying to joke. "I knew you were planning to take me somewhere and eat me."

Brath laughed, but didn't deny anything.

That kind of made me pause, but before I could let that soak in, he pulled me closer and kissed me again. "I suppose your proclamation of monogamy and refusal to share means that I must subject myself to the laws and customs of lesser creatures, hmm?"

When I first looked back at him, I was annoyed, but then it was like in those cheesy songs and stuff; our gazes met and I got all melty inside.

I leaned into him and nearly kissed him, taking a small victory in the way he seemed kind of annoyed that I paused in the last second. "You do if you want to keep me around."

Brath's fingers brushed up my leg, one of them slipping beneath the cloth of my underwear. "I believe that I do, Miss Amy Ford."

Our lips met and then his brushed along my jaw line and against my neck. His other hand slid down my back and I just as he started to pull off my clothes, I remembered something else and lightly caught his hands.

"Hold that thought."

"Woman, I swear…" There was a playful sound to his voice as I hopped to my feet and hurried across the room.

I went to the door and made sure that it was locked, giving the handle a good jiggle, before I tumbled back into bed with Brath.

 


	48. Team Eric

Okay, I don't have a lot to say, mainly because I'm kind of mad right now.

At least, for once, it's not at Brath.

Though I am wondering about him…

First let me say that not a lot has changed in the war against the demons, mainly because it's only been about a day since Brath and I…you know.

I can feel my ears burning whenever I think about it because well, okay, so you probably figured, but I was a virgin and all. And now I'm not.

And well, this is where things get prickly.

So after Brath and I were done...what's that thing my mom used to say, romping in the sheets? Whatever, I don't need fancy phrases. After we had sex and then kinda cuddled—Brath got bored and his ADD attitude made me kinda grumpy, so that didn't last very long—I decided that I would take a shower. No biggie, not a weird thing at all, right?

Well, I left Brath sprawled out on my bed, mumbling something into my pillow as he pinched my butt—so romantic, right?—and headed down the hall.

Okay, so. This place was a grand hotel and all, but with all the adventurers and such coming through, the building got reworked a little bit. Like, Azerothians didn't understand why we had bathrooms in every room and when they reinforced the building with trees they kind of demolished half of the structure so that they could make room for more people. Which means we now have maybe two or three communal bathrooms per floor, which I suppose is still kinda nice. And reminiscent of what a college would be like. I'm guessing.

My mind was still awhirl with all that had just happened and how things were looking up, since Brath hadn't really been sleeping with that other dragon and how he seemed to have feelings for me too—I was still trying to tell myself not to start planning weddings or happily ever after scenarios since I've always heard that virgins can be kind of clingy and I didn't want to be like that to Brath and scare him off or anything—when I saw Eric heading my way.

Well, I figured that I needed to nip his crush in the bud and all, right? I mean, there was no reason to string him along when I was with Brath. However, even as I waved and opened my mouth to say, 'We have to talk about last night,' it happened.

First, his face got all happy to see me and he started to wave, too. Then, he just froze in his tracks. For a second, I didn't get it and then I saw his nose twitch slightly. And his face fell. And he just mumbled something I couldn't make out, pivoted on his toes and darted off down the hall.

So.

Instead of me telling Eric gently that I wasn't interested he…smelled Brath on me or something.

I feel so awful! I mean, I should have shot him down right when he kissed me! He'd looked so happy when he was walking up and then he was just so…dejected. For a second I thought I should have just stayed in my room, but then I think Eric was heading there anyway to talk to me, so that would have been even more awkward. If that's possible.

So, I mean, I knew what had happened and I was feeling kind of miserable. But trying not to, since, yay Brath, right? But then he was already being his jerkish self again and…

Argh.

Why can't life be full of sunshine and rainbows and bunnies and happy things?

Wow, that sounded kinda pitiful, even for me.

But I digress.

So I felt crappy, but figured that not much could get worse, so I headed down and took a shower. I was like halfway through scrubbing myself down when Neesera walked in. Remember the open baths in the Exodar? The inn still has shower stalls, but they aren't high enough to completely hide you—I think so that demons can't hide in them, honestly—and so when she saw me, she waved and came over into the next stall.

Now, I've never been huge on bathroom conversation, but I guess it was just a difference in cultures because as soon as Neesera's hair was all soapy, she started talking. And it made my stomach churn.

"So, Eric. He is a nice young man."

She paused when she saw me cringe. I explained myself, if only to get her brilliant gaze to quit boring holes into the side of my head. When I was done, she frowned and tilted her head, running a cloth over her horns as she spoke.

"I see." She tilted her head the other way, her wet hair falling around her shoulders crazily. "I think it is not your fault. I think this is all miscommunications, yes?" She nodded as though to drive home her point. "I think that if Clara and Nicolas had realized you and Brath were involved, they would not have encouraged Eric as they did."

Wait, what?

When I asked her to elaborate, she kind of shrugged a little, like she realized she'd said something she shouldn't have. "You see, some time ago, Eric mentioned that he thought you were pretty to Nicolas and I guess Clara was nearby to hear." She sighed. "Human men do not…I do not know how to say this without making it sound diabolical…they do not plot as human women do? To find mates for one another?" She paused, thinking over her words and I had to prod her to keep going. "Well, Eric said that he thought you seemed a bit close with Brath, but then Nicolas insisted it wasn't so and Clara pushed him to talk to you more."

At first, I was a little annoyed. I mean, if Clara and her jerky boy toy hadn't meddled, then Eric wouldn't have gotten rejected, right? Well, at the time, I had to agree with Neesera, though. Just a bunch of miscommunications and people meaning well.

However, then, I ran into the demon child.

What? No. Not in the shower. That would have been a  _really_  weird conversation.

I finished up and was heading back to my room, thinking maybe I would rant to Brath and then thinking maybe I wouldn't since he probably _would_  eat someone. As I was walking past the stairway, who should be coming up, but Brath's little brother.

Well, it occurred to me that, you know, he was the one who had told Brath that he was supposed to be repopulating the black dragon race or whatever, so I kind of waved him down and did my best not to recoil from his direct gaze. I feel so bad, because like almost everyone else I've ever been afraid of, he's really nice.

He stopped to the side of the stairway so that he wouldn't be in the way and I leaned against the wall next to him. "I wanted to talk to you about Zaercia."

He cocked his head, his expression one of almost boyish curiosity. "You have met my older sister?"

Okay, side note. I should probably point out that dragons don't see incest the same way we do. And their families are kinda different anyway? So even if dragons are siblings, they could still be thousands of years apart age-wise and it's not super weird if they're involved and stuff? And of course, there's the whole multiple mate thing. But that doesn't really apply to this conversation.

Anyway, back on track.

I shook my head. "No, not yet." Even as he looked ready to say something else, his gaze wandering back to the staircase, I took in a slow breath. "Um, maybe this isn't my place to say and maybe this is just…I don't know. But, please. You can't expect Brath to repopulate the dragon species with her."

His gaze snapped back to me and I felt like a small animal trapped in a cage. Dragons have that effect on people. Doesn't matter if they're shorter than you or not. It's just…their presence is overwhelming. And this kid… I may not have magic, but I can feel his power. Everyone can. That's why they're so careful around him, I think. Why even Nicolas bends knee to him, so to speak.

I don't know how long we stood there staring at one another. I blinked first, in case you're wondering. And it was like he'd been waiting for that before he finally replied.

"I would never subject my dearest sister to that monster's touch."

Oh.

Um…wait.

He frowned as he looked me over more carefully and when he sniffed slightly, I suddenly felt uncomfortable. Was all of Azeroth going to know my business with a simple sniff or two?

"May I ask who told you that Brath was expected to mate with Zaercia?"

"Another dragon," I whispered, my deer-in-the-headlights look in place.

"Do you know who?"

"She was with Derres…"

And he'd never corrected her. For a second, the thought that he was Nicolas' mount and friend crossed my mind, but I didn't quite get how everything pieced together, so I just let it slip as the Black Prince's frown deepened. Before I could stop myself, I was blurting out, "Brath didn't want to. Be with her, I mean. He was saying that he'd rather…" I trailed off, deciding that his imagery against being with Zaercia was not something that needed repeating.

The young dragon abruptly started toward the stairs again and motioned for me to walk with him. I wasn't sure that I wanted to—I kind of wanted to go back to Brath and tell him the good news—but I felt somehow compelled to keep up with him.

"No disrespect to my brother," he said, seemingly forgetting calling him a monster just a few minutes before, "but Zaercia managed to avoid being corrupted. She and I are…unique. Our clutches are sure to be free from the old gods' influence. In time, we may be able to take our flight back to Azeroth without worry of their corruption destroying us again." He paused to look my way. "Brathrion was corrupted for centuries. I doubt he will ever be able to return to Azeroth. While he may be free now, it is only because he is beyond their reach. Were he to have children, they would carry that same corruption that drove our father to madness."

"Oh." I murmured. I know it wasn't what the dragon really wanted to hear because he got this kind of strained look, like he was trying really hard not to be disappointed in his company's conversational skills.

As we went up another floor he began talking again, more to himself. "It is odd. I sent word with Miss Clara to let Zaercia know that should she need any assistance, to tell Brathrion to mind his place and that I'd already spoken with him on attending to any other…refugees of our species."

"Wait, Clara brought the note?" I felt something tugging itself into place in my head, though it seemed more like a conspiracy theory than anything else. I didn't even have to look at the young dragon to know he was watching me expectantly. I tried to laugh it off, mainly for my sake. "I…it's just. Okay. Clara and her friends were trying to set me up with this other friend of theirs. And now I find out Clara was the one who probably told Zaercia and Brath that they were supposed to be with each other."

"You think they were working against your peculiar involvement with my brother?"

Before I could respond with a 'duh', a familiar voice interrupted our conversation and I looked up to see Derres coming down the stairs to meet us. He had a curious look on his face, though when I looked at the dragon next to me, he looked like he wanted to skin Derres. "Master Wrathion, what brings you back to Earth?"

 


	49. Politics and Fun

So, I guess the red flight has a history of messing around in the black flight's affairs? And I also guess that Wrathion, with this little grudge of his in full swing, was used to having underlings, because as he kept that creepy gaze on Derres, he snapped, "Break his legs."

There was this tense silence for a moment before we all realized that I was the one who would be doing the breaking. I really think it dawned on him that he'd erred in his command, but even as I opened my mouth to reply that I didn't think I could take on a dragon, Derres snorted, his long, slender ears quivering from the movement.

"That won't be happening any time soon."

Okay, yes, I'd been about to say something to that effect. Somehow, though, him answering for me made me indignant. He didn't need to say it _that_ way, you know? After all, I'd sort of considered him a friend. I mean, I had worried when he'd gotten hurt and all.

I think I mumbled something about maybe being able to surprise someone, but the dragons ignored me. They, as a species, seem to have decided that they're better than the rest of us. It's really annoying. And kind of racist. Stupid dragons.

So I stood there, half wanting to storm off or demand an apology and half wanted to stay as the apparent fly on the wall that I was to them anyway. Guess which side won out? I wanted to know things. I'm always so in the dark, you know? Like, why Derres and Nicolas and Clara had tried to keep me from Brath—I mean, I can guess, but I'd like to know for a fact—or maybe even find out some different information that could help everything fall into place.

So I stood there in plain sight beside Wrathion, pretty much invisible to them.

The Black Prince was in a fickle mood. I think between finding out that messages of betrothal or whatever have been mis-communicated and seeing someone you don't like, anyone's day would go sour, but his seemed especially so. "Apparently your pets are meddling in my affairs."

Derres crossed his arms. "They aren't mine. I cannot control what they do."

"Lie as you will, I've heard of your past adventures, of how you claim them when it is convenient for you. They are yours." His frown deepened. "So why do you let them twist my messages? Is this all some game for you? Perhaps I should find another champion. Someone who doesn't have the red flight's hooks sunk so deeply into them."

"You are rash in your youth," Derres dismissed him much as they had earlier dismissed me. "And anyway, I'd had no knowledge of your messages, so even if they are my 'pets', I could not have controlled the outcome."

"You did not find it strange for Zaercia and Brathrion to be coupled?"

"Regardless of what I find strange, I recall being told to keep myself untangled from your affairs. You did not wish for our assistance, noble whelp, so be assured you will receive none."

I wanted to point out that Derres was kind of switching his arguments around, but we all say dumb stuff when we're angry, right? And it never helps when someone else points it out. So I stayed quiet.

A few more thinly veiled insults and threats were tossed back and forth and I figured that if I could ever go to a medieval court, this would be the sort of political intrigue I'd see.

It was surprisingly boring. I mean, you're probably thinking Game of Thrones, but the thing with that is that the scenes are kind of short, right? From what I remember, anyway. My dad and Greg watched it and would always give me weird looks when I came in to see what they were watching, like I was interrupting male bonding or something.

Anyway, in that show, basically they're sticking to the interesting stuff and then glossing over the boring points. Which I guess any movie does. They'd let you see the flaring 'oh snap' moments and then move on so that you don't have to see the lame stuff.

Well, unfortunately, I do not live in a movie.

The dragons were basically just saying the same things to one another with different words, trying to one up the other and it was like the weirdest pissing contest ever. However, even as I thought maybe I'd go track Neesera or Fizz down and get more information the friendly way—gossip—another voice interrupted the gentile bickering and we all looked up to see two women walking down the stairs just behind Derres. One was the dragon I'd seen with Derres before. The one who'd named Zaercia as Brath's mate.

The woman next to her—another dragon, I sort of assumed from the company she was keeping, though I suppose with that logic, I was a dragon, too—was freakin' gorgeous. She had long, long black hair that just looked kind of like a silky curtain flowing down, ending at the small of her back. Her skin was this beautiful unblemished copper tone and her eyes shown golden. She looked like some sort of fairytale princess and the silks of her dress shifted softly around her as she trod barefoot down the stairs.

Both women gave our group a curious once over before the goddess—I'm not gay, but holy crap—smiled at the dragon beside me. "My prince," she curtsied low.

I mean, I knew she had to be a dragon, but still. As I took in the little details on her body that confirmed it—the slit pupils, the elongated canines—it hit me.

As if to reinforce the stupor settling over me, Brath's little brother moved up the stairs to her, smiling. I could swear he was trying to stand a little taller and act older as he greeted her. "Zaercia, I'm glad to see you are well."

Brath turned that down? I have to say. I feel all sorts of special right now.

Anyway…

Zaercia returned the pleasantries and gave Derres a measured nod and then looked at me. I felt so out of place—at least I'd taken a shower and didn't look all grundgy anymore. But still, I kind of wished that I'd stormed off earlier so that I could have avoided this awkward meeting.

She offered me another curtsy and I found myself trying numbly to do one myself. It didn't turn out great. Wrathion seemed to remember my existence about that time and looked back at me as well, motioning hastily. "You've heard of Miss Amy Ford, yes?"

Without thinking, I offered her my hand. I mean, we'd already done all the bobbing and whatnot, but my brain wasn't quite functioning the way I wanted it to. I was still just shocked that Brath wasn't interested in her at all. I mean, he _is_ a guy. At least a _little_ interest would make sense, right?

However, even as I realized how dumb I must look, holding my hand out there, she simply extended hers and clasped mine.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Ford," Zaercia beamed. For the first time, I could honestly say that dragon fangs didn't freak me out. Whether I was just finally used to them or if it was because she was so…happy and individual, I can't say. She kept talking though, her voice like a freakin' melody. "I do not know if you are aware, but it was because of you that my flight has a place to escape our fate. There is word that a few more of our brethren will be joining us here in your world in the coming months."

I have no clue how I responded, but it was something mind numbingly simple, like, "You're welcome." I'd wanted to say something flashy and noble, but my mind had blanked and the moment passed.

However, I was not the only one to fall under Zaercia's spell. Wrathion was different. Almost like an awkward teenage boy asking the head cheerleader to the prom. Then it hit me.

That was pretty much exactly the sort of thing happening. So, yeah, he'd been kind of a jerk earlier, but I couldn't let him flounder. After all, why do you think he sent her a message about being his consort instead of telling her in person? Maybe he's afraid of rejection, maybe he's afraid of tripping over the announcement himself, but he's still young, so you know, he's not good at the whole courting a lady thing.

Well, I couldn't help myself. Perhaps it was just because I was finally able to feel pity for someone other than myself, but I spoke up. "Miss Zaercia?" I asked, stepping forward. "About the message you received in regards to Brath—"

Her face fell and it was like a cold wind had extinguished a candle. "Ah, that."

"Clara misheard, I'm afraid," I shrugged. I tried to think of what Derres had said when we'd first discussed Brath after I got back from Moonglade. "You were to be informed that you were the prince's consort, not Brathrions," I don't know how, but I finally got his name right.

Her smile returned slightly as she looked from me to the prince. "This is true?"

Wrathion's gaze was on me, however, his eyes wide. I shrugged. "Yes." I spoke for him, since he seemed too quiet. I had to wonder if I was doing something wrong, but you know what? I was already this far. I motioned toward the prince. "When he heard that the message had been messed up, he came to fix things himself, but Clara was so embarrassed…she doesn't know what to say, but I thought maybe if I conveyed how sorry she is, you might be able to forgive the misunderstanding?"

After all, I didn’t need any dragons going on a killing spree, pretty ones included. And if anyone was gonna kill Clara and Nicolas, oh, it's gonna be me.

I have to say, I was kind of mad at Wrathion almost as soon as I'd said that. There was no mouthed 'thank you' or quick nod of approval or anything. Though he did go with the story. Derres, too, though his gaze did linger on me for a moment until I excused myself and wandered back downstairs. I was so not cut out for that sort of stuff.

As I plodded along, figuring I'd head back to my room and tell Brath the good news that he wasn't betrothed to someone he hated—how he could hate her was beyond me—I was caught in a bear hug. It took a moment to finally get the greenish arms to release me before I was able to look up and see Senta'ri. "Ameh, we be goin' on patrol. A short one, yeh? Come wit' us! Ya be hangin' around de Alliance too much dese days."

Doing just about anything sounded great at the moment. It'd get me away from Nicolas and Clara—so I could cool down and not run up to them half-cocked—and it'd give me a chance to avoid Eric and figure out how to talk to him about the sucky stuff that had happened—for him, of course, not me—and even keep me out of dragon politics for a bit.

"Sure, lemme get Brath," I said without thinking. So much for staying out of everything, right? Though…I mean, Brath and I _are_ …whatever we are.

Senta'ri sniffed the air and then slapped my shoulder. "Good on ya, gurl." I froze—seriously, did that shower do nothing? Not That I'm ashamed or anything, I just…I don't need everyone in my business, right? Anyway, my favorite troll—also the only troll I really know—kept talking. "It be important ta find love where ya can, yeh?" His grin widened. "'n ya just helped meh win thirteh gold from Bart."

It took me a second to realize he meant Mr. Blackheart and another second to realize what that meant. "You made a bet about me and Brath?"

"We be makin' bets on ev'rehtin." He was practically walking for me down the hall, his arm slung over my shoulder to keep me moving along at his brisk pace. "Ya want in on some, jus' say de word. Jus' didn't peg ya for a gambla."

I was at a loss for words. However, before I could say anything else, Senta'ri's smile slipped. "Bart don't be wantin' nahbodeh ta say nuttin', but Ah neva been one for lissenin' ta some undead." He eyed me to make sure I was listening and properly intrigued before continuing. "ya be careful, t'ough, ya hear? Dat Brath…he ain't right in de head." He hugged my shoulders before releasing me. "Dat dragon do nettin' ta hurt ya, lemme know. Me 'n Fizz take care a it." He waved. "Meet ya outside."

I stared after him. Part of me was surprised that he and Fizz were apparently buddy-buddy. And with him being so open about that, it's bound to blow Fizz's cover as a spy. If I get the chance, I'll have to ask him if he's just given up on pretending to be neutral to stay in his home or not.

However for the most part, I was thinking about Brath. Why does everyone have to tell me that he's a conniving jerk? I mean, I know that. It's somehow endearing, sort of. Maybe I'm just really simple.

I don't know, but I really wanted to talk to Brath, maybe get him to come with me on the Horde adventures, since I haven't gotten to be around him a lot lately.

When I got back to my room, though, it was empty. Everyone else was out doing something and that didn't really surprise me, but, I don't know, I guess I'd expected Brath to hang out so that we could catch up. And maybe snuggle without him asking what the point is.

But he wasn't there.

I was so disappointed. And then I had to wonder about what people are saying, though it was only for a minute. Where was he? Had he just been using me, after all? To what end? I mean, seriously, what would he get out of pretending to be with me?

Oh, God. I'm getting clingy.

I really wanted to wait for him to get back, but I didn't want to be one of _those_ girlfriends. You know the kind. The ones who are hanging off their boyfriend's every word and who can't blink without making sure that their guy will still be around after that fleeting darkness.

So I told myself we'd catch up later and wrote a quick note for him, saying I'd be back tonight and left it on my pillow, since—so far as I knew—Brath didn't really have his own bed or room.  And surely he'd come looking for me, right?

Well, the patrol group was pretty awesome. It was like a Horde version of my slumber party with the Alliance. Except we were killing demons in between drinks. I did ask once if it was cool for them to be getting wasted when they were supposed to be paying attention—again I wasn't drinking a lot—and they just laughed at me.

But they're a good group, really. I like them, now that they're not all giving me the silent treatment. Miksa, the orcess rogue, was finally back. I think she and the orc warrior alchemist guy of our group have a thing. That or they hate each other. It's kind of hard to tell with orcish signs of affection. They seem really into blood. And glory and honor and ancestors. And blood. I get the impression that if they could, they would have contests to see who could rip apart the most demons with their bare hands, but that they have to keep things 'civil' while they're around the Alliance.

Oh, a sort of side note: for the most part, humans from my world are a little bit smaller than the humans from Azeroth, so there is enough of a difference that the Hordies can tell who's from what world with a simple glance. And I guess now that they know I'm not some mewling babe that should have been abandoned at the side of the road at birth so that my parents could focus on stronger children, I'm cool.

The tauren shaman who first came with me to my world seems a lot more comfortable, too. His windrider still looks at me like it wants a snack, but he smacked its nose earlier, so it's brooding a ways behind the rest of the group.

The orc is named—probably nicknamed—Ripper—if it's a nickname, he has a nickname for that, which is like, bizarre, unto itself…they call him Rip, mostly—and our tauren shaman is Cloudeddawn. They call him Fluffy.

I'm pretty sure there's probably an awesome story behind that. Because he's not very fluffy at all. And he looks like he'll mess you up just as bad as an orc or troll, until you get to know him and realize that that scary grimace on his face is actually a smile. It's weird to see creatures with snouts smiling and stuff.

And they're not as scary as they used to be—broken record, I know.

Oh, and Mr. Blackheart was _not_ there. He's probably wherever Brath is. I bet _they_ have no problem snuggling…stupid bromance.

Anyway, we had fun, for the most part. I'm getting better at killing demons. I mean, I still have work to do—after all, I haven't been practicing much—but I can sort of hold my own now. And I could tell that the Horde guys were sort of impressed that I didn't suck so much any more.

Miksa was quiet for most of the night, at least around me, but then, after we'd been ambushed by one group of felguards and felhunters, she took some time to show me a few rogue tricks. She's a much nicer teacher than Nicolas. Like, you might not think that an orc would be very patient, but she is.

And she said that being a rogue isn't just about killing. It's about gathering information and stuff—which I suppose I already knew, but still—and that perhaps I was just better suited to being a spy than a fighter. She said there was no shame, so long as I could contribute to my cause.

I thought that was a surprisingly cool mentality to have. I mean, Nicolas has been keeping me in the dark and treating me like I'm a kid, but Miksa is all for me doing my part and all. Maybe it's just a culture difference?

I don't know, but it was fun. Senta'ri made jokes all night, I learned a few tricks about throwing daggers and Miksa showed me how to apply a poison to my daggers. Nicolas will probably flip out. But I'm still excited, because I felt like for once I was keeping up with everyone else, even if I did have the lowest number of kills.

…Yeah, they were keeping track of it and taunting each other with stuff like, "Oh, I've gotten thirteen so far tonight and you're only at eleven?" But then I'd get a demon and they'd be like, "Awesome! That brings you up to, what, five?"

And they weren't being douchey, it was like, legitimate compliments. I don't know much about the game, but there were levels, right? I don't know how many, but it's like these guys are the top level and I'm somewhere toward the bottom, so they recognize that and keep their expectations about around where I'd be level wise. If that makes sense?

Anyway, it was an awesome night and we just kind of bonded and killed stuff. Finally, though, Miksa said that she needed to get back to the base for a scouting mission—I guess this 'patrol' had just been a fun get together to them—and we headed back in.

While the rest of them hung back outside, looking for more fights and whatnot, I turned in. After all, I was exhausted. Oh, and if you're wondering, by the end of the patrol, I'd taken out seven demons. And sort of helped with another four. Senta'ri shared credit with me anyway, since we both kind of nailed them at the same time. I think he was probably the one who killed them, but…yeah.

I don't know. I like the Horde.

And the Alliance, too, of course. They're just different, you know? Different ideals, different cultures, different views on honor and whatnot. It's cool to see and I wish there was some way that they could overcome their hatred for one another and get along.

Who knows, maybe my world can draw them together?

When I got back to my room that night, Brath wasn't there and I was a little worried. I mean, seriously? Where does he go all the time?

Even though he wasn't there, there was something that made my day end on a good note. A second note had been tucked underneath mine on my pillow. It wasn't from Brath either, so you know.

The parchment was crisp and the handwriting was elegant.

_I owe you, Miss Ford._

_~W_


	50. Holy Crap, It's Chapter 50

He's avoiding me. I know it. You know how you'll bump into someone and they'll avoid eye contact and then mumble some lame excuse to run off? Only for you to find them a little bit later totally not doing what they said they had to do?

 _I'm_ at least decent at the whole evasion thing. Let's just say I've been hanging out with the Horde a lot these past few days. Clara has tried to talk to me like a million times—and even Nicolas tried twice, but he gave up early on—but I was able to just point to Miksa or Senta'ri or Fluffy and tell her that I didn't want to keep my group waiting.

Truthfully, it's not just Horde. I've been hanging out with that Russian mage and Isaiah, too. And Neesera and Maevlen. And Cisty and… Okay. Honestly? I'm just giving three people the cold shoulder: Nicolas, Clara, and Derres. The conniving trio.

But I have set my meetings/patrols out—luckily—so that whenever Clara's trying to talk to me, I'm finding myself going to some Horde group, so that it looks almost like I've said, 'Screw the Alliance' because of them.

Like, I understand that they were trying to help or whatever, but it really wasn't their business and to screw with all sorts of people just to 'protect' one person, that's messed up.

I'd totally hang out with Eric, by the way, but he's made himself scarce. I think he might have left New York. Like, seriously. Have not so much as seen the back of his head since the day he ran off in the hall.

And of course I'd _love_ to be seeing more of Brath, but _he_ is also nowhere to be found. Do you think he thought Eric was a threat even though I said he wasn't, and flew him off to some remote place—not hard to find with my world's population decimated as it's been—and even now they're locked in a werewolf-dragon battle to the death?

…

I know, my mind is running away with me. Besides, Brath would win. I'd be really, really mad that he ate my friend, but he would win.

The reason I was ranting earlier about avoidance is because I did see him a couple of times like a day or two after we had sex. He's missing now, though.

It makes me so angry. If he wasn't interested, he should have said so. He shouldn’t have strung me along and he shouldn't have slept with me. The last thing he said to me, though, has me worried. As he'd been making some excuse to leave, he'd stopped mid sentence, turned back to me, and said, "We'll talk later. I…you know."

And then he left. Super fast.

I mean, seriously. What the heck?

At this point, I'm thinking he'd _better_ be hurt. Otherwise, I'm going to kick his ass. Hard. And…I don't know. Find those reins and slap them back on. He'll learn to screw around with the wrong person…

Hmmm…I remember not wanting to turn out like Brath, forever ago, but now it seems like I'm slowly slipping toward some of his less than admirable traits. Like plotting against others…

Have I finally been corrupted? Or maybe I'm just not as naïve as I used to be… Meh.

Anyway, I was hanging out with some friends—it was an odd group, really. Miksa, Neesera, Cisty, and, for some reason, Hendric. We were actually talking about guys. Hendric was just offering the occasional belch or manly grunt—whether it was approval or disapproval was beyond the rest of us. I think he might be gay, and I'm totally cool with that, but he's not much of a talker, so it's hard to tell if he was there to eventually talk about guys _with_ us, or just to…I don't know…avoid some of the people who are demanding he brew some more beer for them.

So I was right about Miksa and Rip, by the way. They have a thing going. I guess they met at a literal Crossroads? Some Alliance were being douchebags and raiding the area and Rip was getting beaten to a pulp when Miksa just happened to be passing through and saved him.

I got the distinct impression that the story would have been told with a bit more detail and relish had Alliance members not been there. I also got the impression that she was more of a badass than she let on. When she was telling this one part, she was like, "There were three raiders surrounding Rip, but I managed to distract them and get him to safety."

If you take it at word value, it's still pretty epic. And completely within her skill set. But I've been out fighting with her, remember? Yeah, she can do that stuff, but she can also be pretty vicious. And she and Rip were telling me about orcish bloodlust, so…

I think part of it is that she doesn't want the Alliance to know how strong she really is. Whether it's so they don't figure out the things she's done or the things she _could_ do, I don't know. But she's my friend, so I acted like I believed her story regardless. Maybe I'll ask her about it sometime when we're alone. Maybe not.

Part of being a rogue is being able to tell the truth without it being told, according to Miksa, so I think that if I actually asked her, it might be a step back from what I'm trying to do. But then, maybe it'll help prove whether my 'intuition' or whatever is right. Who knows?

Our little gathering wasn't just about Miksa's love life, of course. Over a few drinks, we learned that Cisty has a thing for Fizz. When I told her that he had a lady back in Booty Bay, she asked if I knew for a fact that they were a couple. When I said I wasn't sure, she just cackled and declared, "Challenge accepted."

Whatever that means.

At this point everyone already knew about me and Brath and there's some pretty mixed feelingsabout it, but the girls—plus Hendric—have agreed to help me kill a dragon, should he have just been using me to some end. Not literally of course—well, maybe literally on Cisty's part…She's an odd little creature.

Anyway, my business was old news—as it'd been three weeks, that's right, three frikkin' weeks—since I'd last _seen_ Brath, so we were trying to get Neesera to tell us about any romance in her life.

She was being all sorts of shy about it, too. It was adorable. We'd finally convinced her to talk and she was just starting with, "Well, there is this one engineer I write to…we are penpals, you see…" When the door to the room burst open and Clara rushed in.

Miksa has picked up on my anger toward Miss Hypocritical-Control-Freak and I'm pretty sure she's had a laugh over it with her Horde buddies. However, the plus side to her observation is that she has sort of been helping me avoid Clara. So she must have heard her coming down the hall, because she started asking me about something—I can't even remember what, how sad is that?—right before the door swung open, so that I was in mid explanation when Clara showed up. And basically could ignore her, if I so chose, so that I could finish explaining.

On a side note, I know we're all different species, but we really are all the same inside. We all fall in love and have feelings and enjoy stooping to petty levels to help our friends get revenge from time to time.

And with Miksa being an opposing faction, it was easy for her to pretend that Clara wasn't there.

I, however, couldn’t. As mad as I was, I could kind of see where she'd been coming from. Assuming she was actually trying to protect me. I don't want to think she was just being mean for no reason, you know? So, even though I was still super mad, I guess I figured that three weeks of a cold shoulder was long enough.

So even as I let out a tired sigh and turned toward Clara—side note again: it's been so…normal lately, with gossip and hanging out and all…maybe I'm just adapting or whatever, since we do still go out and kill demons too, but still, it's nice—she grabbed my arm and jerked me to my feet, dragging me toward the door as she commanded the rest, "We need to go. There's news on the warfront."

Soon I was dragging her. And the others were right behind us.

Okay, so. I haven't really mentioned it before, since I'm almost never included, but there's a conference room of sorts that our base uses for coordination. It's in the hotel, on the ground floor, but the druids did some stuff with the walls so that it's like super reinforced and all.

Also, I should point out people have been working on finding ways to have secure communications links technologically wise that the demons can't hack into. Still no luck with that, so we've been using Azerothian communications means, which involve crystals and magic.

Anyway, so this conference-war strategizing room thing has connections to all the other 'quest-hubs' of my world.

I knew exactly where this was because I always get left behind or out, right? Sometimes, I would wait outside it for info, but it's pretty boring staring at a wall, so a lot of the time I'd just wander off. I never mentioned it before because I guess I didn't want to admit how often I got left out of the deliberating and whatnot.

But anyway, I knew where it was. And it took a lot of self control to slow down and walk through that door. After all, I didn't want to look too eager or anything or unprofessional to all the important people.

When I got in there, though, it dawned on me that I'm pretty much hanging out with all the important people, at least at my base. Maevlen was giving a few people orders as we came up. Something about a possible portal blackout coming, but he dropped the subject and dismissed them as we came up. He was a few shades of blue paler than usual, but when I asked what was wrong, he just whispered, "It can wait."

In the room, it seemed like all my traveling buddies were assembled. Miksa went over and joined the Horde crew—they still separated themselves more often then not, when off duty, but what's that saying? Old habits die hard?

Anyway, Cisty darted over to where Nicolas was standing and kicked him in the shins. It was pretty epic and the way that steel toe hit his leg, I'm pretty sure it hurt more than he let on. He did grimace though.

Eric was there, to one side, leaning against the wall. His arms were crossed and he was frowning, but he did nod to me once when I waved, before looking toward the ground as though to imply he didn't want to talk to anyone.

Zaercia and a few other dragons were there as well. It took me a moment to recognize Brath among them. He'd cut his hair so that it came down to about his mid ear and for once he was clean shaven. I tried to head over to him, but Fizz caught my hand and had me sit with him at a table in the center of the room. I guess he didn't want my drama delaying the super important meeting.

The leader of the vindicators was also there and after a few more people filed in and took their places either at the table or against, the walls, he cleared his throat. I have to say, I was disappointed that none of the crystals were working, as I'd hoped to maybe see or hear someone from another part of my world give a few updates. However, it seemed that our meeting dealt solely with our area's problems. Or so I'd thought at first.

The draenei's brilliant gaze swept around the room for a moment, daring anyone to talk, and then nodded, mostly to himself. "Our scouting expedition was a success…"

As he pointed at maps and documents, I realized where Eric and Brath—and Nicolas and Derres—had been. I guess I hadn't been as good at avoiding those last two as I'd thought. They'd been gone on some super secret mission.

The vindicator's finger thumped hard on one point on the map—it looked like it was a big island, though it could have been Australia for all I knew. I really need to learn geography.

"The leader of the Legion's forces is here, in the Arctic Circle…" he paused to glance toward someone from my world as though to make sure he was labeling the place correctly and then went on. "Because it is harder to get to, it is also where they've been manufacturing their infernals and their main portals for reinforcements."

He paused and looked around the room, his face drawn. His gaze wandered over the different people from my world in the room and then came to rest on me. "Understand this: Shutting down those portals, destroying the factory, and killing the eredar in charge will not cause the assault on your world to cease, but it will cripple their attacks and make them think twice about continuing their assault on this world. It will also give this world time to recuperate and prepare for another attack, though their next one will be likely to be even more vicious than the last."

I didn't like the way he spoke of my world as though he and the other heroes wouldn't be there. Had something happened?

He went on to detail the mission. Pretty much everyone in the room was considred worthy of going—or at least keeping order in the others' absence, should they choose to stay—and we were expected to leave within the hour. Supplies were already being packed for us—including some gear that would enable us to survive in the freezing temperatures up north—and we just needed to gather any personal effects we might need to bring with us. The whole trip, assuming we were successful, was to take two weeks. We were taking a portal there, but would need to fly back. For anyone without a flying mount or with a noisier one, dragons would be aiding us.

I could barely believe what I was hearing as I sat there, my gaze never leaving that vindicator's face. This was really happening.

The real battle to save my world was finally going to begin.

And I was going to be part of it.

 


	51. Unraveling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of this chapter is a complete character list for anyone who's interested.

Holy crap.

Just…ugh.

Everyone is upset and for a while, I wasn't sure if we'd even end up coming out here to this frozen hell.

Let me back up.

After the meeting, we all headed to get our things and then meet back up at the roof, so that we could bring our mounts with us through the portal they were gonna make. I wanted to talk to Brath, right? But I also wanted to make sure that I was in on the mission. I mean, I don't know why, since I'm not the most seasoned person out there, but I just felt like it was something I needed to do. Maybe as an apology for having such an evil brother, maybe just as a way to know that this is really happening.

I don't know. I'm not psychiatrist or psychologist or anything. I just…I had to go.

And I figured that Brath would be going, too, since he did promise he'd help me. So I grabbed what little I might need and hurried upstairs. To hell with being angry or vengeful, I just wanted to know what was going on and why the heck he was avoiding me.

I saw him alright, but he was circling the roof in his dragon form, pretending he was out of range to hearing me call, when I'm pretty sure he could hear me.

Well, I was all set on pouting until he came down, when I noticed Nicolas and Derres. Of course they'd be the only other ones set to go already. I went over to give them a piece of my mind, since it seemed like a perfect stress outlet had been offered to me, but instead of buckling down and taking the bitchfest like men, Derres was all smiley.

"There is our little diplomat. You really smoothed things over with Wrathion."

I was on a mission. I was, really. And I started with, "Don't even, for a second, think that flattery will get you anywhere!"

And somehow it didn't turn into a yelling match. Yes, I was still grumbly, but they apologized. I guess on their trip to the north, they had a real heart to heart with Brath—which from the sounds, was akin to torture in my dragon's mind—and they decided that he wasn't just pretending to not be evil anymore, but was actually, honestly, not. While neither of them could manage to say that he was good—I'm not sure I could even say that—they had to admit that he wasn't bad either.

Like seriously. I was super surprised and a little skeptical, but unless they're both sociopaths like Greg, they meant it.

Grrr…that actually leads into what happened next. And part why _I_ , at least, am so pissed off.

While they'd been apologizing and Brath had been flying a bit lower, though still maintaining his act that he couldn’t hear us—he so could—Derres' lady dragon friend had come over and I guess after my apparent performance for the dragons, she assumed that I was as wily and cunning as Nicolas and Derres. Oh, she's from the blue flight, by the way.

Well, we're sort of getting to the friendly point, with her twittering little voice as a constant prompt to keep the conversation going, when an awkward silence settles over us. Like, the two or three previous ones, she picked a topic and went off. Except, well, this topic involved a few assumptions on her part, the main one being that I had been in the know.

"You know, Miss Ford, I think that you are quite brave." I tried not to let my anger from recent events mar my 'thank you'. She went on. "I'm serious. I mean, it must have been so hard finding out what a monster your brother was…and then to pretend not to know so that he'd believe his escape wasn't prearranged… It is fortunate that he was so arrogant in his own abilities. After all, it was through tracking him that we found their…main…base…"

I'm pretty sure she'd finished trailing off by the time my eye twitched. I mean, I'd figured that it had been some sort of plan. I had. But still…to have it confirmed…and to know that they hadn't even had the balls to tell me themselves.

Let's just say I finally got my stress outlet.

I punched Nicolas. That's right. I punched him right in the jaw. And I actually hit him. I mean, maybe he was just letting me do it, since he is more experienced with dodging attacks and stuff, but whatever. I took the victory.

And, you know, tried to pretend my fist wasn't hurting as much as it was from the impact.

As I turned away in disgust, I saw Eric had come up and he looked really surprised. And then, slowly, ever so slowly, this grin spread across his lips and he trotted over to us. He held his hand up and it took me a moment to realize that one of my world's mages must have taught him a bit about our culture. His smile was on the verge of slipping when it dawned on me and I gave him a high five.

His grin came back and he tussled my hair and glared at Nicolas. However, before any of us could say anything, suddenly I found myself scooted back a few steps with an arm around my shoulders and a broad hand was holding Eric in place by his face.

Brath had finally decided to be social, apparently. By making sure Eric understood I was taken. Which was sort of a douche thing to do, since I was beginning to wonder if I was actually _in_ a relationship myself.

He growled at Eric as he lowered his hand, his other arm still around me. "We are monogamous."

I have to say, I probably would have laughed if I wasn't so pissed off. I mean, seriously? That's the first thing he says in weeks and it's not even actually _to_ me, but instead _claiming_ me?

Just…what?

I pinched his side and his gaze snapped toward me, indignant and brooding.

"I'm so mad at you right now," I muttered.

We might have broken out into some stupid lover's quarrel, if not for what happened next. More people had been showing up in threes and fours and pretty much the whole group had assembled when another argument started up that made my bad mood look like a child's temper tantrum—which it debatably could have been, but meh.

Brath was trying to argue that I had no right to be angry when he'd done nothing wrong—apparently his traveling without me was so I wouldn't be worrying over whether my lover or brother would emerge victorious in any chance encounters, though I guess they hadn't gotten close enough to 'neutralize' Greg.

He was about halfway through his sentence when this gnomish mage came up the stairs to the roof where we were waiting. The gnome was already ranting as he came up, but the first thing he said that I could make out was, "…Monsters! All of you!"

Kelveris—who had come up at some point, though I couldn't tell you when—intercepted him first, even as half the people on the roof moved toward the gnome, trying to figure just what he was going on about.

This is a little off topic, but Kelveris is Nicolas' guild's leader. Have I ever mentioned that before? Well, he is. And he's really, really good with people. I mean, his smile can make anyone feel more comfortable. Some dude from the pentagon would probably be rattling off state secrets without even realizing he was doing it, if Kelveris gave him one of those smiles and asked the right questions—another thing he's good at. That's just how it works with him. And I guess Nicolas didn't originally want to join the guild, but Randall had been sure that he'd be a good recruit and so he'd set Kelveris on him. Within half an hour, Nicolas had been fitted for a tabard. I guess that was back in the day when he was reckless and stuff? Apparently he was even _more_ of an insufferable jerk back then.

So it was no surprise to anyone that Kelveris would be the one to calm the gnome down and keep him from freaking out on us.

Oh, he also has an amazing memory when it comes to names. You can be introducing yourself to someone on the other side of the room and he will know your name forever. Maybe it's those ears…

"Quimberton, yes?" Kelveris turned on his trademark smile. "I remember you from our efforts in the citadel, a few years back." No clue what he was talking about there. "If you'd wanted a spot for glory, you need only ask. Name calling is rather—"

For a second, it had looked like our night elf's charms were working, but as soon as he slipped in a joke, the gnome's face contorted with rage again and he pointed a stubby finger accusingly at Kelveris. "How can you fight next to those abominations?" His lower lip trembled, making his pink mustache quiver with anger. "That you can stand here and not strike down our enemies, after what they've done! You're as vile as they are!"

Kelveris was quiet a moment, clearly realizing that this was not something to be smoothed over easily, as he was missing some key piece to the puzzle. In that time, as he tried to read whatever had happened off the fuming gnome's face, Neesera stepped forward, her hooves clopping dully against the wooden floor. Her smile was as sweet as ever and she reached her hand out slowly toward the gnome, an offering of peace. "Come now. I know we and the Horde have had our differences, but I think our work in this world has shown that perhaps the past can be put aside—"

"Eight to one!" The gnome screamed.

Silence met him. Mostly because I don't think anyone had a clue what he was talking about, be they Alliance, Horde, or Earth factioned.

Though his gaze implied that the Horde _should_ have known exactly what he was saying, he spelled it out for the rest of us. "For every eight Alliance here, there's one Horde! Do you know why?"

Senta'ri started to object, but Fluffy caught him and shook his head. I think the tauren was figuring that any attempt to reason with the little gnome would come off in his mind as a cover up and to let the Alliance deal with their own crazies.

The gnome was looking over everyone, a wildness in his eyes. Loss. He'd lost something dear to him.

I could feel tension in the air and it made me uncomfortable. It reminded me of the rift between the factions in Booty Bay and how I'd been all but exiled for merely thanking that forsaken priest. Without even thinking, I pressed closer to Brath, like he might somehow shield me from whatever was about to come.

Something seemed to click in the gnome's mind and he did another accusatory sweep of the roof before his gaze landed on Maevlen. He scurried toward him, pointing up. "You didn’t tell them!"

Maevlen never took his eyes off the gnome. He held his hands up in an attempt to placate his attacker. "Please, hear reason—"

"Theramore is gone!" The gnome spat, whirling away so that he could look over the entire group. So that he could see everyone's surprise. "The Horde did it! They held their armies back so that they could lay waste to our homes while we defended a foreign world!"

"Ya got some nerve, accusin' us a sometin' dat undahanded—" Senta'ri snapped, attempting to stalk toward the little gnome. However, Fluffy's grip on his shoulder tightened so hard and fast that the troll let out a yelp and had to pause to wrestle free from his comrade.

Miksa and Rip were exchanging a confused look and Fizz, where he was standing near Maevlen, looked shocked as well. I don't know about all the Horde, but these guys, at least, hadn't had anything to do with whatever was happening.

"Underhanded? Your warchief didn't seem to think it was below him," the gnome hissed. "He destroyed Theramore while you all distracted us! Made us think that peace was possible!"

Fluffy looked like he'd been slapped. For the first time, he tried to speak out on behalf of his group and the other Horde adventurers out here, but it quickly fell into little more than him trying to defend against the shrieking gnome.

As they argued, I couldn't think about whatever this Theramore was. It was selfish of me, but what crossed my mind wasn't how many were killed or did any of my friends know anyone there? Instead, I wanted to know what that meant for help for my world, if theirs erupts into war again. Will we have to pick a side with the Horde or the Alliance? Will Azeroth's fighting spill over onto Earth? We can't afford that if we're gonna push back the Legion.

"Please," I stepped forward without thinking, echoing Maevlen's words.

"Save your breath," the gnome snapped, turning on me so suddenly. "I'm under no illusion. I've seen you fight with whoever's on hand. You don't give a damn about our world, except that it's functional enough to save yours!"

His words hit home. How could I deny that when it was what I'd just been thinking? I felt sick and grimy inside.

Eric patted my shoulder, though when I looked at him, he was pale, like he was terrified that what the gnome was saying was true. However, he tried to smile at me. "He's beyond reason right now."

"That's because your _reasons_ are _excuses_!" The gnome motioned toward all of us. "You know the truth now, though! You can make this right!" His eyes were desperate as he looked over Nicolas and the others. When fighting didn't immediately break out amongst us, his gaze hardened again. "If you can stand beside those monsters, then you deserve to die, the same as them!"

When silence met his demand _again_ , fire flickered to life at the gnome's fingertips. "So be it! I'll avenge Theramore alone, you cowards!"

Before he could cast his first fireball, the nearest vindicator had him incapacitated. The draenei didn't say a word as he quietly took the gnome in his arms and hurried off downstairs.

There was this terrifying silence after the gnome was gone. Like the world could have come to a standstill. I know I wasn't the only one afraid to breathe, because when my gaze met the Russian mage's, big and burly as he was, he looked as lost as that gnome had. Like a single misstep would bring our world's salvation crumbling down around us. Isaiah was watching the heroes from Azeroth, his knuckles pale against his holster on his hip.

Finally, Nicolas broke the silence. He was so still and his voice was eerily calm as his gaze slid toward Maevlen. "There's been an attack on Theramore?"

Maevlen took in a slow breath, steeled himself, and met Nicolas's gaze. "We got the first report about fifteen minutes before you returned from your mission."

Clara darted forward, clasping Nicolas hands in hers. It took me a moment to realize that he'd been reaching toward his daggers. She looked at Maevlen. "What happened? How many were injured?"

"We don't know yet," Maevlen whispered. "We…It was decided that we would wait to tell everyone…so as not to worry anyone until more was known and the information could be validated." As silence threatened to fall upon our group again, Maevlen sucked in a slow breath. "It is likely that, if the attack is as grievous as rumors say, that many of us will be called back to Azeroth to serve in the budding war. If this is true, this may be our only chance to deal a decisive blow against the Legion here on Earth. If we wait for information…"

"We'll be called away before we can," Clara murmured. She let go of Nicolas hands, staring down at the floor, a frown in place.

"Your brother is in Theramore. If you want to wait, I'll stand by you," Nicolas said, though he stopped himself from adding anything else when Clara shook her head.

"This needs to be done," she reached out and squeeze his hand again before looking at me. "After all, enough people have died because of our willingness to brush aside these matters." Her smile was weak. "We'll do what we can here before we're called away." She paused and then looked around, "Well, we will anyway. Obviously I don't speak for everyone."

There was this brief pause in which everyone kind of looked over everyone else and then Cisty let out a soft laugh, though it seemed sad, somehow. "I think you do, Miss Clara." She trotted up to the rest of us, one hand resting on the axe hanging at her side. "What say we get that portal started before anymore distractions pop up?"

 

…-…

 

Character List

_Note: I disagree with some of the heights WoW wikki gives for races (orc men do not seem like they would be 6'6" on average), so unless there's a note that they'd be a little guy, they're basically average height. Also, ages on there seem a little odd, too. Meh. Take it with a grain of salt, these are the profiles I keep in mind for everyone._

_Characters are listed roughly by the order that they came into the story and any nicknames/names they're better known as are in parenthesis (since some of their actual names haven't been introduced through Amy's narration…)._

 

Amy Ford — human (f); American; subtlety rogue; brown hair (currently dyed red and cut short), hazel eyes, tanned with freckles; about 5'5"; 17 years old; not much of a figure; some skill in herbalism.

Greg Ford — human (m); American; demonology warlock; brown hair, hazel eyes, very pale; about 5'10"; 20 years old; scrawny gamer guy; Amy's brother and not a great guy overall.

Fizzit (Fizz) Icesprog — goblin male; Steamwheedle Cartel; arcane mage; black, spiky hair, red eyes,  dark green skin; 4'1"; 37 years old; a bit lanky for a goblin; tailor/enchanter.

Brathrion (Brath) — black dragon (m); Twilight Hammer; black hair (currently cut short), golden eyes, copper skin; about 6'1"; Looks like he's in his early twenties, though as a dragon, he's much older; rippling pectorals that would make most ladies drool. In his draconic form, he looks like a drake; wingspan 28', claws about 7", black scales. If he has professions, he doesn't use them. It is also unclear if he can use magic or not.

Nicolas Weaver — human (m); Alliance; combat rogue; reddish brown hair, (currently bleached and looking white-blonde), brown eyes, a decent tan; about 5'11"; 30 years old; toned muscles, lithe body.

Clara Grace — human (f); Alliance; holy priest; dirty blonde hair, green, pale despite her travels; 5'8"; 29 years old; in shape, though a little soft with less definition in her muscles than most adventurers.

Randall (Mr. Responsible) Darksbane — human (m); Alliance; protection paladin; longish blonde hair, blue eyes, tanned skin; 6'1"; 38 years old; well toned muscles; deceased.

Eric (TJ) Fieldson — worgen (m); Alliance; fire mage; shaggy brown hair, blue eyes, kinda pale; 5'11"; 23 years old; a bit scrawny. In his worgen form, he's 7'10", dark brown fur, actually looks fairly ripped (though his worgen buddies back home call him the little guy).

Derrestrasz  (Derres) — red flight dragon (m); Wyrmrest Accord; waist-length golden hair, glowing blue eyes, pale skin; 6'3"; looks to be in his early thirties; lithe, elven body. In his dragon form he looks like a large drake; wingspan 34', claws about 9", red scales.

Neesera Lightsong — draenei (m); Alliance; restoration shaman; curly blue hair, glowing white eyes, pale blue skin; 6'8"; young for an immortal, looks to be in her mid twenties; in shape; miner/engineer.

Maevlen Faithsfire — draenei (m); Alliance; arcane mage; white hair, glowing white eyes, dark blue skin; 7'3"; immortal, looks maybe…29ish?; built by human standards, a bit thin by draenei standards; herbalism/alchemy.

Michel De Smedt — human (m); Belgium; civilian; brown hair, hazel eyes, freckles; about 4'7"; 12 years old; wears glasses, not very muscled; deceased.

Bartholomew (Bart) Blackheart — forsaken (m); Horde; demonology warlock; stringy brown-gray hair, glowing yellow eyes, mostly rotted off skin; about 5'9" in his stoop; 25 years old at time of death; herbalist/scribe.

Cistern (Cisty) Wobblebracket — gnome (f); Alliance; protection warrior; bright green hair, blue eyes, decent tan; 2'9"; 67 years old; in great shape from all that armor.

Ripper (Rip) Shatterfist — orc (m); Horde; fury warrior (prot offspec); bald head, dull red eyes, light green skin; 6'1"; 35 years old; burly; herbalist/alchemist.

Miksa Ragegore — orc (f); Horde; subtlety rogue; short purple hair, blue eyes, brownish-green skin; 5'10"; 32 years old; well toned muscles.

Senta'ri Bonegrinder — troll (m); Horde; beast mastery hunter (pet Cat); light orange hair, yellow-orange eyes, and light blue-green skin; 7'4" when standing upright, about 6'2" when slouching; 24 years old; lanky, yet toned.

Cloudeddawn (Fluffy) Plainswhisper — tauren (m); Horde; restoration shaman; his mane and braided beard are honey colored, green, fur is a pale honey color (a bit lighter than his mane); 7'10"; 83 years old; he looks like a walking wall, from Amy's perspective, though he's a bit small among his tauren brethren.

Kelveris Duskleaf — night elf (m); Alliance; feral druid (kitty); waist length white hair, glowing white eyes, purple-blue skin; 7'1"; 10,547 years old; well toned, muscled; leatherworker/skinner; leader of the guild Crusaders' Remembrance (the title was inherited from the former guild leader; he wanted to name it Free Hugs for Moonkin to impress a certain lady friend, but the name change was shot down by the majority of his guild. One of his few defeats).

Isaiah Jaegal — human (m); American; marksman hunter, if anything; short cropped black hair, dark eyes, tanned skin; 6'0"; 39 years old; in shape.

Vsevolod (That Russian Mage) Anisimov — human (m); Russian; frost mage; blonde, steely gray, pale; 6'3"; 27 years old; body builder, from the looks of it.

Zaercia — black flight dragon (f); The Black Prince; long black hair, golden eyes, copper skin; 5'11"; looks like she's in her early twenties, though as a dragon, she's much older; slender, yet toned. Her dragon form is unknown, as she maintains her human appearance to keep a low profile; she _is_ her kind's hope for a future.

Hendric Brewbeard (quite possibly not his real last name, but it's what he offers when people ask) — dwarf (m); Alliance; arms warrior; long brown hair, short brown beard, dark eyes that twinkle with mischief, grayish skin; 4'11"; 111 years old and arguably never sober for a day of it; stout and fit; beer alchemist (it is his official title within his guild, or so he claims).

Aeragosa (Derres' friend) — blue flight dragon (f);  Wyrmrest Accord; white-blue hair, glowing green eyes, dark skin; 5'10"; looks to be in her early thirties; slender. Her dragon form is that of a drake, 25' wingspan, 6" claws, blue scales.


	52. The North Pole

Twenty five of us came through that portal, counting dragons. One of the heroes—as Maevlen pointed out, even if we die out here, it's what we'll be remembered as, for however long my world lasts—is a woman from my world in her early twenties who somehow managed to keep her 'For the Horde' t-shirt in pristine condition,  _even_  through the end of the world, and she says that that's a regular sized raid?

It was kind of funny to see her talk to Nicolas. I guess she played a rogue, though she calls herself a hunter now. Her 'ferocious' pet is a Chihuahua named Tinkerbelle. I kid you not. Can't remember  _her_  name, but I got the dog's. Senta'ri had to tell Cat not to eat the little thing like five times now.

But that's not my point. My point is that she was a hardcore raider. Like, all the way back from…launch or something. Basically since day one. And she's been in all the raids in the game. Fun fact, she had the daggers that were given to Nicolas and knew their names and it kind of freaked him out. Especially when she started talking about rogue abilities that I guess are supposed to be secrets of the trade that he hasn't thought to share with me yet because…I don't know, I'm not experienced enough or something? I bet Miksa will.

Assuming, if we both make it out alive, she won't be called off to the brewing war in Azeroth.

But this gamer chick, she talked to Nicolas a bit about 'playing' a rogue and some of the raids and I guess the game designers did a really good job on getting the…mechanics(?), I think she called them, for most of the fights. So there were instances during her foray into better days where pretty much every Azerothian was kind of like, "I was there and that actually happened…how does your world know about that?"

It was funny. I think we needed that. And kind of makes me wonder, how  _did_  the designers know about that?

In case you were wondering, we got to the north pole just fine, but we were having to trek a few miles to get to the base. After all, if we'd showed up  _in_  the base, they'd have just mowed us down as we appeared, right?

And argh, I can't remember if I mentioned this, but they gave us trinket things that ward off the cold? So we can actually be in the frozen north and not die of frostbite. Oh, that gamer chick asked them about plate-kinis. I'm not sure I want to know what those are, but the Azerothians weren't sure either, so…yeah. She was thrilled. Said something about practicality winning out and then made every female in our party promise not to buy and 'armor' from any gamer guys in my world.

Dunno what that's about, but whatever, kind of off topic again.

Well, before we headed out, we'd already discussed who was going where and the group pretty much split up into three. The main group was to start clearing a path to the eredar guy. Another name I can't pronounce. Um, everyone was really happy though because it's not a guy named Kil'jaeden. Though miss gamer chick thinks he's probably gonna come after us like he did Azeroth apparently, if we successfully repel the Legion. I guess his boss really frowns on hiccups in the master plan to destroy the universe.

So, anyway I wish I could detail every epic, heroic thing that happened out here, but I wasn't with every group—obvious, I know, but still. Maybe I can get Fizz or someone to go over their parts, but I dunno.

My part, though? I went with Miss Gamer Chick, Neesera, Brath, and Mr. Blackheart to disable the area where they were constructing the infernals.

Oh, there's no solid leads or anything, but we think the reason the Legion didn't open their attacks with those flaming rock dudes is because our world is further away from most worlds or something. So the infernals would fall apart before reaching us. If that makes sense? Because they don't last forever.

They're assembled mostly magically, too, which is why Mr. Blackheart came. As a warlock, he would have the most insight into how they work. However, there is some techy aspects to it which are why Neesera and Miss Gamer Chick—I'm just gonna call her Miss GC from now on—were there. Brath came because I was there and me? I was there because I don't think they wanted to risk having me anywhere else.

After we split up and headed toward the different parts of the base, things got a little boring. I mean, there were no epic shoot outs or anything on the way there, so instead of telling you about every moment one of us stepped down a little too hard and then all five of us got quiet to see if a demon was gonna come check on what the noise was, I'll go over some stuff you might be wondering.

First, why were we told the mission would take two weeks, what with traveling back and, all, seeing as we have Fizz, Eric, Maevlen, and V—that Russian guy—who are frikkin' mages? The vindicators basically built into our plans assumptions like all the mages dying, so that if it does happen, we'll have enough supplies to make it home. I was kind of horrified that they expected the loveable quartet to die horribly, but Fizz had just laughed and reminded me it was called a 'worst case scenario' for a reason. He headed off with the main raid group, by the way. We're supposed to meet up with them after we dismantle the infernal workshop.

The other thing I think you might wonder about is why this place isn't crawling with demons. I mean, they're everywhere, don't get me wrong, but you know. We didn't have to fight thought them.

The reason is that two dragons who came with us basically went on a suicide mission to distract the forces here. It's no one I know, but still, I feel sad when I think about it. They're giving their lives for a world that isn't even theirs.

And I can't stop thinking about whatever happened back in Azeroth. There really is no end to the fighting for Nicolas and the others. Deathwing, my world, then back to theirs. I kind of mentioned it to Kelveris before we split up and he laughed and said, "Plenty of time to rest when we're dead."

It's so sad, though.

Death really seems to be the only way out of this life style.

Which makes me wonder; what about me? And Brath? I really want to repay the people of Azeroth, to give back to them something for helping my world—yes, that gnome got me thinking—but then, Brath can't go back with me, you know? And I'd have to pick a side.

I suppose I should wait to make plans until I see if I even live through this.

Well, my group made pretty good time. In twenty minutes we'd made it to the 'factory'. Miss GC said it looked like some camp thing in Shadowmoon Valley, wherever that is. Honestly, I didn't think it looked much like any factory I'd ever seen, but then, I'd been thinking of car assembly lines from commercials and stuff. Instead, it was just dozens and dozens of rows of infernals, standing there, void of life and fire, with all these little creatures scurrying around their feet. We watched them from a safe distance, hiding behind some crates—I should mention that there were pieces of infernals and boxes of odd things around the edge of the room, but they seems to adhere to standard safety regulations in warehouses, where you have to keep boxes and stuff about a foot or something from the walls. It helps prevent fires or something.

…

I worked in a warehouse last summer. Well, the summer before my senior year, anyway. It wasn't glamorous or anything but—

Okay, off topic.

Anyway, we were watching the little creepy demon things. Every now and then, one of the little things would tap the air in front of an infernal and it—the air—would just light up with these runes. As it would tap on the different runes, the infernal might come to life for a second and wave an arm or stomp a foot or something in response. Like it was running a diagnostic on the infernal.

Mr. Blackheart told me the name of this type of demon—why, I'm not sure, seeing as it's pretty well known that nouns, be they proper or not, and I do not get along well—and while I don't remember what it's called, I do remember that somehow those ugly little things are related to felguards. Somehow.

Oh. Another thing you may be wondering: we're using detect invisibility potions to see the demons. We didn't want to risk the spell getting dispelled or anything, so potions it is. Remember how I said potions are super effective on me? It's a racial thing, so like, so long as we Earth humans have those potions, those demons can't hide behind their magic.

Anyway, so the little critters are smart, according to Mr. Blackheart. He also said there's probably a bigger one out here somewhere; that'll be the engineer in charge of everything. In the factory, anyway.

As Neesera and Mr. Blackheart discussed, somewhat tenuously, how to best deal with the situation—Neesera is all for giving people chances, but Mr. Blackheart's kinda made it obvious that he's evil and would throw her under the bus to save himself or just for giggles, so she's not completely comfortable working with him…none of us are, except for Brath—Miss GC pulled me to the side, Chihuahua tucked under one arm, to talk to me. "Do you know much about WoW?"

"Not really."

I think she'd expected me to say that I  _had_  played a little or was even a dreaded 'casual'—Greg always said they were ruining the game—because she just stared at me for a second before recovering, shaking her head. "I kind of hate you right now… how did a non-WoWer figure out the—never mind." She pointed toward Neesera, dropping her voice. "I want to make sure you understand something. She is our healer."

"I know that—"

"Shut up and listen," she made a zipping motion with her lips and fingers. "We are not here for exp or gear. We are here to win. Sometimes, winning takes sacrifices. If the warlock goes down, tough shit. If you or I die, the group can recover." I felt my heart rate shoot through the roof, just thinking about it. "One sacrifice we  _can't_  afford, is the healer dying first." She nodded as though to emphasize her point. "We don't have a tank for some idiotic reason—I'm guessing they figured that dragon guy would tank, but he's made it clear that you're the only one he's pulling aggro off, which is just stupid. But anyway. So that means that we have one healer and four dps. Dps are expendable. Healers are not. If it comes down to it, we save the healer. You got it?"

When I didn't answer right away, she raised her eyebrows. "Seriously. This is not the time for all that care-bear hold each other's hand shit. We're here to win. If people have to die for the greater good, then people have to die. Do you understand?"

"…yes."

"Good," she slapped my arm and Tinkerbelle wagged her little tail. "Now, let's have fun and kill shit."


	53. They All Fall Down

"We need to cause a distraction."

Mr. Blackheart had been kind enough to wait for Miss GC to scare the crap out of me with all that death talk before bringing up he and Neesera's decided plan of attack. He put one boney hand on my shoulder and then pointed a meatless finger toward the infernal nearest the corner we were in. He ignored how my skin paled almost to his shade as it occurred to me that the reason he was saying this to  _me_  was because  _I_  was to do the distraction.

He rummaged through his pocket and produced a small, hexagonal looking stone. It was smooth, save for a few spider-fractures running across the surface. "Each technician has one of these…it's how they check the infernals and turn them on…" He trailed off as he looked at Miss GC, who looked ready to hug him and tell him he was the coolest thing since sliced bread. She's a serious fan girl, if you couldn't tell. Well, he just kind of looked her over a moment and then went back to explaining. "Steal one of the keys from the demons and then go to this corner and start disabling the infernals." He paused, noticing that I looked ready to protest. What stopped me from arguing, though, was how tired he seemed. I hadn't really seen him as anything other than maniacal and evil, so it kind of threw me. "You don't need some deep insight into how demons work. Just hit the runes until the damned things collapse or malfunction."

I wanted to point out that Miss GC would likely be a much better candidate than I was, seeing as she was all in the know and whatnot, but…she was a 'hunter'. She couldn't  _stealth_.

So instead, I simply nodded. I admit, I kind of wanted Brath or Neesera or even one of the darn demons to tell me I didn't have to do it or something, but that's what I came out here for, right? To help?

As I was turning to go, Brath caught my hand and kissed me, running his fingers across me cheek, through my hair, and down my neck. He smiled against my lips, but when he pulled away, I caught sight of Mr. Blackheart again and…

Holy crap. It's like I stole his man. Well, maybe not  _quite_  like that, but…it was like he knew he'd lost his best friend to someone else.

I shivered at the thought of making enemies with a corpse who could live through almost anything and turned away a bit too quickly.

However, before my mind could drum up the proper level of paranoia that I'm sure Mr. Blackheart would have appreciated, I was set back on task.

Brath whispered after me that he wouldn't let anything happen to me and that we could talk when all this was said and done. It made me feel better, you know. Dumb that simple words could do that, but whatever.

So anyway, with those words echoing around in my head, before I knew it I was slipping between the nearest infernals, keeping an eye out for any lonely demons to rob. It took me about ten minutes of lightly treading and back stepping to avoid being seen before I finally found one over by his lonesome.

I swear, it was like something was watching over me. Seriously. Because almost as soon as I started toward the little guy, he—she, it? Those creatures are so ugly…it's hard to tell gender. Anyway, as I was sneaking toward him, he tripped and pretty much everything in his pockets spilled across the floor.

So…here's the embarrassing part where I felt like I needed to go back to kindergarten again. In my thrill about what had happened, I grabbed up what I thought was the key, but even as I hid again behind one of the nearest infernals, I realized I was holding an octagonal stone instead of a hexagonal one.

That's right…I failed at basic shape recognition.

Aaaaanyway.

So I needed to fix things and fast, right? I mean, that little critter was scuttling across the floor, his large hands clumsily jerking things off the ground and shoving them back into his pockets. And he was closing in on the actual key pretty fast.

Now, I may be good at 'stealth', but picking pockets is another thing all together. If that key got back into his pocket, even if I did get it, I'd probably have to kill the little guy and then the noise would probably alert the others and a dead friend would let them know of the security breech a.k.a. us.

Lucky for me, I'd been training with Miksa, listening to her talk about gauging situations and acting accordingly and all and I just kinda went into autopilot. I snuck around the infernal, took the thing in my hand and lightly tossed it across the way, toward the bottom of the infernal on the other side of the aisle. The little demon jumped as the octagon thing clacked against the floor, but I'd thrown it just right so that it looked like when it had first been dropped, it'd been propped up against the giant leg and had just now slipped down to hit the ground fully.

As the demon waddled over to the octagon, I picked up the real key and left Mr. Blackheart's broken one in its place. I didn't stick around to see if the little monster would believe that  _he'd_  broken his key or not. However, no great clamor or anything happened, so I'm guessing he was sort of thinking, 'Crap, gotta replace this before anyone realizes I broke it…'

By the time I got back to the corner where the others had been, it'd been maybe fifteen minutes and I just about had a heart attack.

No one was there.

Even as I started to wonder if I'd taken too long finding a target and stuff and that maybe they were caught or something, I noticed a flitting movement near the back of the room, more toward the middle. I looked toward it and saw Brath, hiding behind a different pile of boxes than before.

It dawned on me that, as I'd been instructed to make the distraction back here, of course they wouldn't have stayed where all the bad guys are going to be flocking in a few minutes. Needless to say, I was really happy after that realization.

However, as we made eye contact, he frowned and made a few quick hand motions which I took to mean I needed to focus and not get myself caught. I dunno if that's actually what he meant or not, but I decided it was a good enough translation and I directed my attention back to my task at hand.

I went to the infernal closest to the corner—after making sure that none of the little technician guys were nearby—and then pulled out the key.

And realized I had no clue what to do with it.

So, I considered just smacking the infernal with it, but I hadn't seen any of the little demons actually touching the giants. And, you know, I didn't wanna accidentally break it and have to go find another one. So, instead, I slipped back into the ranks and stalked another little demon until I saw him use his key.

There went another ten minutes wasted, but whatever. Hopefully it just meant that Neesera and the others could get into position or whatever.

Anyway, to use the key, the thing had held it in the palm of his hand and then held it toward the infernal. By the time I'd made it back to the infernal I was to sabotage, I saw that Brath had moved down along the wall, closer to where I was. His gaze was sweeping the area and it dawned on me that I hadn't told him what I was gonna do, so he was probably wondering what the heck had happened.

The look he gave me when I waved quickly before ducking back into cover…if looks could kill…

I decided to hope that that look was because he was worried and set my focus back on messing with that end infernal. It took me a few tries to figure out how to hold the key to get the menu screen thing to show up in front of the infernal—another ten minutes wasted, as I had to dodge a few patrolling technicians—but once I did, I have to say…my guardian angel was so watching over me.

Remember Fizz's translation spell? Yeah. Totally translates demonic, too. The goblin is like a gift from god. Anyway. I think the demons had never really figured that their enemies would be able to read their programming or whatever, because there weren't a lot of fail safes and password protected areas on the panel. Rather, the interface was pretty user-friendly, kinda like a smart phone.

I miss my smart phone…

But the directory was pretty straightforward. As I kinda flipped through the options, looking for one that would let me disable the infernal, I saw another one that gave me the best idea ever.

By the way, I'm really fast on my phone—no shocker there, right? But anyway, once I knew what option I wanted, I logged off and timed myself to see how fast I could get to my option of choice.

About ten seconds once I knew which things to click to get me there.

Right before I set things into motion, I looked toward Brath, who was still watching me, and motioned for him to start heading down the wall. I clicked things into place and darted through the aisles, stopping about five in to access another control panel, a little further from the wall. Then I slipped forward a few more aisles and accessed another.

Even as I'd left that first aisle, that initial infernal had begun to emanate heat. As I was setting my third infernal on self-destruct—I guess they use that option to take out buildings and stuff?—the first one finally blew and I had to give up on just going down the whole side of the room to take out all the infernals because there was too much flying debris everywhere.

By the way, the best part of that explosion? It took out the infernals five aisles down and the second one I'd tampered with exploded while its pieces were in the air. Like, each piece, flying in different angles and stuff, blew up and did even more damage than the first one had.

It was, as WoWers say, pretty epic.

I nearly got crushed by a flying rock arm as I ran to the wall, but before it could smush me, Brath caught my arm and dragged me safely behind a stack of spare parts. And that was when the third one went off.

Brath had to stifle a cackle as one of the demons who had been running to put out the fires and all that was crushed by a piece of newly exploded infernal. He tussled my hair and then jerked me closer, ducking down and calling out his wings to wrap around us and block some more falling debris. I hadn't even heard it clatter to the flood before I found myself being dragged behind the next set of crates and boxes.

It looked kinda like the devastation done to my world, to my cities. Fire raining from above, the building creaking dangerously around us, and panicked cries for help.

Except this time it was the demons who were the ones fleeing in terror.

And they deserved it on so many levels.

For the first time in my life, I didn't feel bad for another creature's suffering. I found myself laughing at their misery along with Brath.

Anyway, in the new chaos, the need for subtlety dropped dramatically. Only one demon noticed us as we raced along the wall, and Brath snapped its neck before it could even call for help.

Everything was going great and I was thrilled that we were dealing such a blow to the Legion. I could totally see the rest of the groups doing just as well, since obviously I was the newbie here and things were going so swimmingly for me.

As we headed along the wall, I'd occasionally run over to an infernal and set another one to blow for good measure, even though that kind of told the demons we were heading along the one wall. It didn't really matter though, right? Because they were already trying to put out fires and if they tried to cut us off—a few did—they just ended up getting blown up by the latest tampered infernal.

It was awesome and I was on cloud nine. So was Brath, apparently. As I came back to his side, he'd kissed me again, even as the latest explosion rocked the area and sent debris falling around us.

His hands rested on my hips and for a second I thought he was gonna try to make out with me, right in the middle of all this, when he simply frowned and straightened up a bit, listening.

I'm not sure, but I think dragon senses are a bit better than human ones. I could be wrong, but he was definitely hearing something. His hand found his way to mine and he tugged me along after him. "Let's go."

As we came to the far end of the room, I saw that there were these machine things—probably a combination of magic and technology. A few of them were already smoking—no doubt thanks to Neesera and the others. However, that hardly registered as I saw the 'bigger' creature, the engineer.

He was frikkin' huge. There is no middle ground when it comes to anything Azeroth or Legion related. Either its small or its gigantic. Like, seriously. Anyway, Mr. Towering Evil was holding Miss GC in the air by one arm. Her body was limp as she hung there and then with an almost careless flick of his wrist, he tossed her to the side and she hit the floor with a sickening thud before her body bounced once and skidded, leaving a trail of blood.

Suddenly, it was like we hadn't been doing so well after all.

I was horrified, but there wasn't anything I could do, you know?

At least I didn't freeze up. All those weeks of patrols and slaying demons paid off. In that time, I'd seen people get hurt and even gotten a few cuts and bruises myself—nothing this dire—and so…I don't want to say I forgot her, but I focused my attention on the bad guy.

Honestly, action movies have always struck me as kinda lame because I always get bored watching two people beat each other up, so I can't really give you a play by play of how the fight went down. There was fire—lots of fire—and watery healing magic and Tinkerbelle and weapons all over the place. That Chihuahua is vicious, let me tell you.

Well, they'd already engaged the fighting before Brath and I had arrived and the fight was practically over as soon as we got there. It was like seeing Miss GC get tossed aside gave the rest of us the…I don't wanna call it inspiration, but something like that.

Mr. Blackheart got the last hit in. And by hit I mean that he sort of melted the creature's face off. I don't think I'll ever sleep well again, without some heavy duty sleeping pills. Because just…ew.

But, even as the engineer's body slumped to the ground, a voice called out from behind me.

"Woohoo!"

We all whirled around and saw that Miss GC was alive. As my jaw dropped, she put one hand on her hip—she would have put both, but one of her arms looked crushed, though even as she stumbled up to us, Neesera's magic healed her up nicely—and gave me a cocky grin.

"Feign death, bitches."

I guess that's a hunter ability?

Anyway, both she and Mr. Blackheart complimented me and Brath on all our explosions and we figured that we might as well take out the remaining half of the room while we were here. So we did.

And Mr. Blackheart is an evil genius. He controlled some of the infernals so that he could move them to the edges of the room and stuff and put timers on their self destructs—he's much more advanced in his understandings of how to work these things—and we ended up taking down the whole factory and like half the base around it.

They weren't going to be making infernals in my world  _any_ time soon.

And that meant that  _our_  goal, at least, had been accomplished.

So it was time to meet up with the others and hope we weren't too late for the final show down.


	54. Happy Endings

Happy endings. They depend on where you stop the story.

It's like something my mom used to say. The reason fairytales end when they do is because of the promise of a better future, without seeing the reality play out. If you end Cinderella right after she's saved by the handsome prince, then you don't have to see them fall out of love or succumb to illness or have children who think little of them.

My mom was kind of cynical, but she has a really good point, I think.

For example, Mr. Blackheart's story should have ended in a place called Tirisfal, before the plague. Back when his biggest concern was which flowers to steal from his neighbor's garden to give to his girlfriend for her birthday.

It shouldn't have gone on to have him die writhing in a ditch, half a mile from her house. It shouldn't have had him realizing that he was damned to eternity as a monster, his heart twisting itself into something atrocious, so that just maybe the pain of his reality would stop. It shouldn't have had him giving himself over to hellfire to prevent reinforcements from making it to that eredar's side. Of burning away into nothing after telling us that he welcomed death as there hadn't been anything left for him in life for a long time.

And it sure as heck shouldn't have had him using something called a damned soulstone on himself while I was mourning his death. I'd actually felt bad that he was a pile of ash. But no, that asshole had to get back up from the dead. It makes me want to strangle him, but I already tried that once, remember? Dead guys can't be strangled, on account of they don't need to breathe.

Sorry for all the cursing. Elizabeth is rubbing off on me. She's Miss GC, in case you're wondering.

But yeah. Mr. Blackheart gave some dramatic speech about life and lost love before running off to die for the cause and he didn't mean  _any_  of it. The truth is, he  _loves_  being a monster. Not having any rules or responsibilities he feels bound by. He'll probably be around long after the rest of us _just_  because of that.

Most of our stories are winding on. Some paths are splitting while others remain parallel and I don't know why, but I've been thinking about what my mom said, about happy endings. Like, I don't see how Mr. Blackheart could have one waiting in his future, being dead and all, you know? His happy ending was, like I said, back before the plague hit, assuming his little speech had any merit to it, anyway.

Maybe he's never had a happy ending moment in his life.

I've been wondering how many of my group's happy endings have already played out.

That's really morbid, isn't it? I'm not trying to be. I just…I don't see any of our stories concluding with, "And they lived out their final days in peace, surrounded by family and friends."

I think…I think I've been pondering this because of what happened to Clara and Nicolas.

I mean, I don't wanna paint what happened in the wrong light, but, well…

Clara's dead.

She went down fighting for my world and the worst part is…I didn't even realize she'd gone down until it was too late. Not that I probably could have done anything to save her, but...

We'd been fighting wave after wave of demon when that eredar in charge finally fell to the ground and it took me a moment to realize that he was really, honestly dead. And I just stared at him as it sunk in that  _he'd_  been the one leading the attack on my world and that  _he_  was dead. The head of the snake had been chopped off.

I couldn't believe it and as I looked around, trying to make sure this wasn't some dream, I looked over and saw that everyone was heading to where Kelveris was, near the back of the room, next to someone lying on the ground. I didn't even think to look over who was still standing. I'd known we'd lost Isaiah and two druids who had come with us out here, but I knew every face and I could've figured it out, but I was just…my mind went blank. Maybe it was just exhaustion taking its toll.

By the time I got over there, they'd already closed Clara's eyes. Nicolas was crumpled over her, his fingers digging into the cloth of her robe as he rested his head against her, as though if he let go his whole world would slip away.

I've never liked him much, but seeing him like that broke my heart. And it still breaks, whenever I think of him, wherever he is now. See, after we'd finished hunting down the remaining demons and seen every building in the place gutted with flames, he took Clara's body home to Stormwind.

I haven't heard from him since, but with the war breaking out in Azeroth…

Kelveris told me about how Nicolas and Clara had been together for years. How Randall had been the closest thing to family he'd ever had. After Randall died, Clara was all he had left.

His story should have ended a long time ago, in a place called Naxxramas. Not a single member of their raid died in those fights. It was there that Randall told Nicolas that he was more a brother to him than his real siblings. It was there that Clara finally lost her patience and kissed Nicolas first.

Naxxramas ended with hope for them.

Maybe he'll find someone else. Maybe this Hellscream guy can be reasoned with and the war will end before it's really begun. Maybe the heroes of Azeroth  _won't_  be pitted against one another.

All those maybes sound so…empty.

Kelveris, Derres, and Cisty went back to Azeroth as well. They said they'd keep an eye on Nicolas and keep us up to date.

Of my Alliance friends, Neesera, Maevlen, Hendric, and Eric are staying in my world, to help us rebuild. I think…with the demonic forces growing scarcer by the week, that my world is almost a vacation for them. Fizz, Senta'ri, and Mr. Blackheart have stayed as well, though…I'll get to Mr. Blackheart again in a moment.

Ripper and Miksa wanted to stay, but when we got back from our trip up north, there were these Kor'kron guards waiting for them with orders. Fluffy went with them. He's like their pocket healer or something. They wished us well—I don't think their escort approved of their familiarity with humans from  _any_  world, but they just acted like they didn't hear the disapproving grunts behind them—and left us with a chest thump and the words, "Lok'tar ogar."

Victory or death.

V—that's what Elizabeth calls that Russian guy, since I guess she can't pronounce his name either—is working on organizing a group to start sweeping through Russia to make sure there aren't any large pockets of demons left out there. I think Maevlen, Eric, and Elizabeth are going to go with him.

Brath has made it clear that he's going wherever I go and honestly, I don't know what I'm gonna do yet. Maybe head back to North Carolina and see if any of my friends or family are still alive?

Or maybe we'll go look into the rumors we've heard from Mr. Blackheart about his…fellow Forsaken 'liberating' certain areas of their corpses. He was quick to say that the undead he'd been talking to had been referring to taking a few bodies for spare parts—like if his arm were to fall off and he needed a less decayed one—but I have a feeling that whatever they're doing is a  _lot_  worse.

There's still plenty of uncertainties in my life: Will the Legion come back with a vengeance? Will the budding war in Azeroth spill over to my world? Are the Forsaken bolstering their numbers for said war using the dead of  _my_  world?

I don't know the answers, but I think that this point in time is my happy ending. I mean, who knows? Maybe I'll have a dozen happy endings punctuating my time line, but I think  _this_  is where this arc ends.

With hope, with dreams of a tomorrow, with looking toward the future.

So I ask you this:

Remember us as we are now. We've beaten back the Legion and we're looking ahead. We're ready for whatever may come next and more importantly, Fizz and a few others at least are going to stay out here. They're pledging themselves to neutrality in hopes that someday there will be a peace in their world. We'll rebuild my world, forge ties between the Alliance and the Horde. We'll work toward something  _better_.

I know that I've lost a lot to get to this point, but I just have to look around at the people with me to know that I've gained as much as—if not more than—I've lost. My friends, Brath, confidence that I can kick demonic ass… A sense of self worth.

Not that I hated myself before, but now I really know that I  _have_  skills, right? I'm not so average after all.

Because, you know, I  _did_  get a happy ending.

I saved a world.


	55. Epilogue

In the middle of a large, empty room, a translucent screen cut on in the center of the space, coming to life with color as a slender blonde woman wearing a baby-T with the Horde's insignia displayed proudly across her chest grinned at the camera, one arm disappearing to the side of the screen where she held her phone, the other holding a small Chihuahua to her.

As her dog looked around slowly, blinking its large eyes and wagging its tail toward something off screen, the woman cleared her throat, green eyes sparkling. "Hey, all! Elizabeth Carnegan and Tinkerbelle here with a-fucking-mazing news! The leader of the Legion in our world is dead! Dead!" She turned the camera so that it showed a massive, decaying head on proud display through a window she'd seated herself beside.

After a moment, she swung the camera back onto herself.

"Now, there are still demons around, since killing the head guy doesn't automatically make the rest of them just poof away. If only. I know some areas are still gonna be hard pressed, but we want to give you guys hope, okay? There  _is_  an end in sight. So keep fighting."

She paused, her lips twisting as she let her gaze wander toward the ceiling. "What else is there…? Oh!"

The camera jostled a moment before resting on her again. She'd seated herself practically in the lap of a scruffy looking young man with a patch covering one eye. Even as he reached up to scratch some of the stubble on his chin, she pointed at him using Tinkerbelle. "This is Eric Fieldson! He's one of the many heroes from Azeroth who decided to stay and help us rebuild." She angled the camera more toward him. "Say hi!"

"Hi…" Eric murmured, slowly closing a book on one of his fingers so as not to lose his place. His gaze kept going from the camera to Elizabeth and back.

She leaned her head closer to his so that they could both be seen. "Dunno how many of you Team Jacob fans are still out there, but this guy's a _real_  werewolf." She winked at the screen.

"Worgen…" Eric murmured before shifting a little awkwardly away from Elizabeth. He caught her shoulder with his free hand as she nearly fell on top of him and lightly pushed her away with a tightlipped smile. "I'm kind of in the middle of something."

An awkward silence passed over them before Elizabeth hopped to her feet, focusing the camera on herself again. "He's a little shy…" She frowned as her gaze swept the area and then she darted forward, stopping next to a wall of a man dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans talking to a draenei in a long robe. "V! Maevlen! I'm making a video, comment?"

The human man gave her a big smile and flashed a thumbs up at the camera. However, before he could say anything, the draenei crossed his arms. "There is a point to this, Miss Carnegan?"

"Morale boost."

"Oh…" Maevlen stood a little straighter and the camera jostled again as Elizabeth angled it up and zoomed in to frame his face. "Hello, people of Earth—" He frowned as giggles erupted from off screen. "What? Have I said something odd?"

"No, no. You're fine. Go ahead."

Maevlen blinked twice before speaking again, the brilliant light of his eyes making the details of his face a bit fuzzy on screen. "We would like you to know that many of us plan to stay and help eliminate what remains of the demonic forces here and we will see your world onto the road to recovery…" He paused, his head turning slightly as he looked passed the camera to Elizabeth. "I would go into details, but if you are…posting this? The demons will likely get a hold of it, then."

"Makes sense," Elizabeth said as she swung the camera back onto herself. "One person I really wanted to let everyone meet was the renowned Amy Ford. Yeah, you know, the one who pretty much made all of this…" she turned the camera to sweep over the room filled with different people and races—mostly mages—flipping through books and practicing spells as she walked back to the window to show off the bustling street below and the blue sky overhead, "possible."

She turned the camera back onto herself again. "I know some of you out there have thrown her into that made-up-internet-meme category, but she  _is_  real." She paused to kiss Tinkerbelle on the top of his head as he whined. "She's also what we call a rogue and refuses to let me catch her likeness on camera, since she's talking about doing some sneaky stuff at some point in the future."

She took in a slow breath, her gaze wandering toward the ceiling again. Then, abruptly, she looked back at the camera and grinned. "I guess that's it, really. Hang on, hold out, and kick some demon ass! We'll be doing the same."

The screen in the room cut off and a scrawny looking young man with graying patches of skin beneath his eyes frowned as he stared at the empty space where the image had been.

"My liege," he turned o bow toward a towering eredar a few paces behind him. "What would you have me do? It will take time, but we can amass enough forces to go back and—"

"Mr. Ford, your ambitions are admirable, but pointless." The creature's voice echoed across the giant room with next to no effort.

"Kil'jaeden, please," he tried to keep any weakness from his voice. "I understand my world. If I'm in charge, we can destroy it along with all those heroes from Azeroth. If we do nothing, the Alliance and Horde will return—"

"To a war that will diminish their forces further," his superior cut him off. "Besides, plenty of these 'heroes' are still on Earth. Your world served its purpose." He shrugged, his expression almost bored as he turned away and headed toward the door of the room. "Let your people have a good, long taste of their victory. After all, after Azeroth falls, they won't have a leg to stand on."


	56. Things to Come

So, hey it's been a while. Kind of a long while. I mean, crap a lot of stuff has happened. Sounds like the same old, same old, right? Not quite.

First, let me just say that for the most part everyone's doing fine. Earth hasn't been completely reclaimed but we have reclaimed about twenty percent of what we've lost. I'm not a great strategist, obviously, but I'd say that's pretty good for the few years since we kicked the Legion's ass back into the twisting nether.

Let's see…let's start with the nicer stuff first.

You know that trash island in the Pacific? The goblins found out about it and it's officially being called New Kezan. I haven't been there yet, but Fizz told me that I probably wouldn't like it there, seeing as I like trees and blue skies and clean air and not being caught in random explosions.

So the goblins are pretty happy and they've been working really hard to keep good relations with our world.

Some guy sent on behalf of the royal family in Stormwind has been working with a lot of leaders of the remaining countries here. Fun fact: a lot of the southern hemisphere countries or the ones who weren't hit hard by the Legion are leaning more toward the Alliance as they've been really helpful and all with providing relief and all that.

People from countries pretty much decimated by the Legion tend to be more Horde oriented, since, you know, the Horde believes in glory in battle and focuses more on fighting than sending care packages.

There have been rumors that the new world powers—Australia, Brazil, Argentina, and India—are going to politely ask the Horde to leave. That humans are deciding they should be allied with other humans rather than brutish orcs and all that.

God, this was supposed to be the happy section.

Oh, well.

The orcs are almost nonexistent here now. We do have a lot of trolls and tauren. And even some talking panda bears. Stuff's getting really bad in Azeroth, from what I've heard. They were in an all out war and more than that, the orcs went all master race on  _everyone_. Even their allies.

You know how I hoped that Hellscream guy could be reasoned with? Yeah, not so much.

Back to good news: he was overthrown. And back to the not so much news: The Alliance raided the Horde capital. The Horde is not very happy. See, they were planning their own raid, but the Alliance beat them to it.

And yeah.

So I guess the Alliance is sort of threatening to make the Horde their bitch?

…

Elizabeth has me cursing so much more these days.

You know, there was this study before the world ended, that if you  _don't_  curse all the time and you get hurt, cursing will help numb the pain. But if you do it all the time, then it doesn't have much of an affect. Food for thought, for all you cursers.

Me included these days.

Anyway, so off topic.

So tensions are really high in Azeroth. And getting there here.

And it gets worse.

You know Mr. Hellscream?

Okay, so. I've been getting decent at following stuff. I know my fireblasts from my fireballs and what an ice lance looks like compared to a frostbolt. I am pretty good with my daggers, though I am now also proficient with dual wielding hand guns. It's really fun until you have to reload. You know how in the movies they have those extra clips positioned so that they can just drop the old clips and slam in the new ones and keep going?

Brath and Hendric laughed at me for a week after I tried that and lost the new clips. They weren't secure enough or something. I don't know. I keep myself pretty busy, so I don't have a lot of free time to figure this stuff out.

Brath's doing okay, by the way. He's really happy that his little brother is off playing around in some panda land thing. Sounds like a theme park.

Senta'ri caught him being a bit too cuddly the other day and the troll has nicknamed him Cuddlion, the Earth Snuggler. Senta'ri is in hiding right now, since Brath is pretty much set on teaching the 'overly familiar vermin' that his place is to be a smoking pile of ash.

But, argh. I can't stay on topic to save my life, it seems. As I was saying before I got to Brath, I have a decent understanding of magic and all that. It's still all magic-y and beyond my abilities—I guess it always will be, since I'm a rogue—but what we're hearing about Mr. Hellscream now is seriously trippy. And as upset as the Azerothians are about it, I don't think they've realized what they've started in the minds of the people in my world.

Apparently Mr. Hellscream was supposed to go to trial, since an orc living after battle is shameful and stuff. Well, he got away. And went to the place called the Caverns of Time.

And went back in time?

How does that even…?

Ugh.

I don't…

Whatever.

So, he went back in time. And I don't know how they know, but dragons are involved and they think he went to Outland. Like there are time dragons and they followed his trail or something?

Well, apparently people are worried about the ripple effect of, you know, changing the past. And they think it's gonna start in Outland. So right now all eyes are on there—well, all eyes not being gouged out in bloodstained battle fields and stuff—as they wait to see what's gonna happen.

I can't help but wonder if the changes are already taking place and we just don't know it because it's the past being rewritten, so it's always been that way for us now. Brath doesn't think it'll happen like that, but he's not a time dragon, is he?

The worst part is, it's so selfish, but most people in my world, when they heard that, sure they felt back for Outland and Azeroth, but what's really on all of our minds is, well…

Where does that leave us?


	57. Special: Michel's Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is told from Michel's point of view, as a way to help flesh out his character.

There are so many stories in our world, that it seems like no matter what happens, there is something you can relate to. I never watched a lot of TV, so I'm sure there are plenty of references I could make, but won't because I just don't know them.

But it's still nice to know that there are parallels out there, even if it's an imaginary character I've never heard of who knows what I'm going through.

I'd like to think that I'm standing shoulder to shoulder with some of the least likely heroes from stories. Ones they did not expect. Underdogs. Ones who are remembered for a long, long time because they saved the people they loved.

It would be a more fitting way to be remembered, I think. That is why, even though I am scared, I know I can do this. Pappa used to say that the mark of a grown up was being able to admit that you are terrified, and still stand tall.

I won't back down.

I will be as strong as Pappa, and Mamma, too.

They deserve that, for all they've given me.

I was a little spoiled. I know that. We weren't rich or anything, but my parents never argued over anything in front of me. In fact, the only way I knew that Mamma was angry was that she wouldn't say anything. She'd clean the table and go to bed early, and Pappa would just shrug and ask me if I'd like to go raiding with him.

We never did the current raids together, just old ones. I watched him play sometimes—he's very good with his rogue. I play an orc warrior, and I'm good, I think. But sometimes I get too excited when my numbers are high, and I pull aggro. Pappa let me into one of our guild's raids once, and I pulled the boss from the tank.

He dropped out of vent when they started cursing.

He didn't raid for almost a month after that, and at first I thought they were punishing him for my mistake. It wasn't until I heard him talking over vent later that I found out he was angry at them for being so hateful. They take their raids very seriously.

Our guild—I didn't raid, but I was a member, same as him—is from all across Europe. They are very serious about their raiding, and I understand why they did not invite me to go again. I always figured that in a few months I would get better and make up for my mistakes.

No one plays World of Warcraft anymore, though.

Even if we could, I don't think we would. Not with  _them_  wandering the streets.

But the reason I mention them—my guild, I mean—is because maybe this is my chance to make up for things.

They are serious. They are good with organization, and they are smart, so I know that they are alright. They will benefit from what I am doing. When Nicolas and Amy bring help, the heroes from Azeroth will find them. In burned out buildings and underground bunkers, maybe even in remote country homes.

I just wish I could be there to see it.

I've never really liked Americans. They're arrogant and loud—well, Amy isn't, but still.

That's actually working for me, here. The one leading them, Greg, is so sure that he knows everything. All I had to do was cheer him on, and he believed me when I said that I was helping the demons tie up loose ends.

It's funny, really.

Pappa was working so hard after our city fell, I've tried to model myself after him, the way he would talk to others. He kept people organized back home, even through the chaos. He said the secret was in the tone of your voice. If you sound important, people think you are and treat you like you are.

But, even though he didn't admit it, Pappa really  _was_  important. To a lot of people, not just Mamma and me.

He listened to the radio and bounced our internet's signal around a lot so that he could stay in touch with other survivors without the Legion finding us. We were still in touch with our guild leader and the guild's raid leader and his wife when I went to Azeroth.

Our guild leader is from Latvia, and he was hit before us. He warned the entire guild, using his webcam. Later, when we got in touch with him again, he said that a demon cleaved his right arm off just short of the elbow, but he managed to get away. His voice sounded very weak for a while, but he has been getting stronger. I think he said he raided a hospital some time ago, but he didn't want to talk about it.

No one ever wants to talk about what they have to do to survive.

Stealing isn't so bad, but…

There are bad people. Like Greg. One of them found us, following our internet signal, and Pappa had to keep him from telling the demons where we were.

I'd never seen him cry before, but after we'd moved and were safe again, he broke down. It was only for a little bit, and Mamma told me that I should never talk about it. I wouldn't have, but I think…she felt so helpless, too. I think she was telling herself as much as she was telling me.

Mamma thought we were crazy when we first reacted to our guild leader's warning, but Pappa let her think it, not wasting time. Instead, he had set up for us to go visit a guild mate in Portugal. Our plane tickets were just a few hours too late. If we'd gotten the earlier flight, we could have flown out before they shut down the airport.

But then we wouldn't have been around to get Amy's message, so I guess it worked out.

You may wonder about how there are so many people from so many different countries in my guild, when there are different servers with different languages and everything. Our guild is actually very friendly to those who do not speak or read French. Our raid leader's wife is a translator, and she loves getting to translate for people. That alone attracted some of our members. And then there was one member who had accidentally clicked the wrong language and didn't know how to fix it because her boyfriend thought it was funny that she couldn't understand anything.

For weeks, she'd occasionally come onto trade and speak in Portuguese, asking for help and trying out little French phrases. Septa—the raid leader's wife—found her one day, and a friendship was made. She is the top dps in the raid group now.

Well, was. I hope the Legion hasn't gotten that far south yet.

And even if they have, she is smart, like the rest of them. She will be okay.

I hope Pappa can meet Nicolas someday. He has those daggers on his troll. I think he would like to see them in person. I hope Nicolas is nice to him. He is kind of mean to Amy, and I think the only reason he is nice to me is because he sees me as a little boy.

Everyone sees me that way.

The people here, the ones working with the Legion, do too, except for Greg. But he hasn't been around for a while, so the rest of them just kind of ignore me, and that lets me eavesdrop.

These people…these bad guys are just smart enough that they have cameras throughout the city. They watch for any movement and then hunt down any survivors and give them an option. Join the Legion or die horribly.

Some don't even get that option.

It depends on who finds them. Anyone from Greg's inner circle will just kill them or do worse. But there is a man here, Jonathan. I think he is a good man. I saw him whispering to some of the others about something, but he shut up when I came up. Like Greg, he realizes that I have ears.

It reminded me of my father.

When the demons first hit, many people tried to stay together in groups. Pappa wouldn't let us evacuate to the shelters. He didn't trust them. Mamma thought he was being strange, but…I don't know.

I don't know if he intercepted a message or if he just had very good instincts. The shelters were wiped out less than a week after they'd been formed. He kept in contact with others, but suddenly we would move. He made me wear a blindfold. When he first did it, I thought maybe he had gone paranoid, but then, when we hit the street, that awful smell hit me, and Mamma started crying.

I never saw the city streets at their worst. We always stayed in basements or in places with boarded up windows, and Pappa made me wear the blindfold whenever we moved. I was always afraid that I would trip or that we would move too slow because of it, but somehow we were always alright.

After the first month, he gave up on the blindfold. It was sickening to see all the bodies strewn about the streets—I threw up the first time—but they were not as much the people as they had been. If that makes sense? Their features were already rotting away, and I couldn't place anyone. Honestly, I don't know if we were even in a part of town I would have recognized, but I think it was easier to not have seen them as the people they were.

It was still horrible, but…Pappa spared me the worst of it. I wish he'd spared Mamma instead. She always has this blank expression now. A lot of the time, she spaces out and cuts herself while preparing food or weapons. The last time I saw her, her fingers were still covered in old band aids and strips of an old shirt.

She was so upset when she realized that we'd used all the band aids on her, because she'd wanted to send some with me, through the portal. Pappa had told her that they would have medicine and bandages where I was going, but I don't think she quite believed him.

Sometimes I wish that Pappa had sent her instead of me. She was so sad all the time, and she would have been better if she'd seen Azeroth. I'm little and good at hiding, so it would have been okay if I'd stayed behind.

But then, she wouldn't know how to do this. Everything seems to have happened as it was meant to, like there's someone watching over us and guiding us.

Even so…

I worry about them. Pappa said that after the generator powered the portal, they would slip out through a hole in the wall of the maintenance room on the south side. His plans are always good, but…that hole was so far away, and there was so much open space between there and the portal.

I wish there was a way to send them word that I made it through safely.

Or a way for them to send word to me that they are safe. We'd been slowly making our way south, to try to get past the Legion. I hope they didn't run into any trouble along the way.

Enough of this. I need to focus.

There's no one to help me, so I have to be the grown up here. It doesn't matter how scary the situation is, I have to stand tall.

Jonathan reminds me of Pappa. He's making plans, too. And he's careful. But he's not going to let his cover be blown. He thinks that the best way to help his people is to control the portal himself. He doesn't understand that for that portal's success, this base needs to be blind.

Even before the city fell, Pappa had been showing me how to code. I'm very good at it. Better at that than Warcraft. However, when the demons came, his lessons changed. Suddenly I didn't need to build programs anymore. He wanted me to be able to take them apart.

He said that if something happened to him, I would have to be able to hack his system and dismantle it so that the demons couldn't track down our friends through our network. I didn't like the way he talked, but he told me if something happened to him, I would have to look after Mamma, so I took the lessons as seriously as I could.

Now I wish I'd had more time. At best, I've been able to upload a small virus onto their system and glitch a few of the cameras, but the system itself can probably patch half of what I've done. And if Greg or any of the others are even a third as smart as they think they are, they will bring it back up.

So what I have to do is destroy as much of these computers as I can before they can stop me. The guards change in ten minutes, and they'll probably notice the door is blocked from the inside. They have guns and can shoot the lock. I don't know how long it will take them to get past the table and chair's I've used to barricade the door with, but they will.

If only I were a little stronger, I'd have been able to set that up and give myself more time. If I'd been Amy's age when this happened, this would have been a lot easier.

But I've got ten minutes until they notice and then however long until they break in. The one good thing about the demons' attack is that they've devastated so much; it will be hard to find replacements pieces. Hopefully that will give Amy and the Horde enough time to come through the portal unnoticed.

They took some of the group I was with to the basement, but I can't do anything for them.

I hope they understand. This is bigger than any of us.

They will hurt me and kill me once they get through that door, but I have to try not to think about it. I have to stand tall.

I know that Pappa gave Amy a letter telling her to take care of me because he stills thinks of me as a little kid, and I hope that he won't be too mad at her that she wasn't able to do more. With luck, what I do here will make them proud.

For Azeroth. For the Horde. For my guild.

For Pappa and Mamma.

For Earth.


End file.
